


Control

by Johnlockforthewin



Series: Control 'Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst, Big Brother Dean, Brotherly Love, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, F/M, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Molestation, Self-Hatred, Sick Sam Winchester, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-06 04:46:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5403563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnlockforthewin/pseuds/Johnlockforthewin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam doesn't eat. Dean never notices. </p><p>Until he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Aren't Hungry

**Author's Note:**

> Season 1. This contains potentially trigger descriptions of an eating disorder. Also, this contains an abusive relationship. Slightly physical and most definitely verbally abusive, be careful if this could trigger you. Rating to change.

 

Sam jerks his head up from his phone at the sound of knocking against the window of the Impala to see Dean holding three plastic bags, filled with snacks and drinks, and two paper McDonald’s ones, greasy circles staining the bottom. Making a face, Sam leans across to open the driver’s side door. Dean hands him two wet cups from the gas station/fast food place they are at.

“Okay, so I got you a Dr. Pepper and your favorite,” Dean sing-songs as he pulls a happy meal out of one bag.

Sam gives a weak grin. His favorite. Right.

The car starts and Dean pulls out of the parking lot one handed, the other holding a half wrapped double cheeseburger, juice rolling down to his wrist. Sam rolls his window down as he often does during long drives.

 

\----

 

About 12 miles down the Interstate and Sam has almost thrown away all his fries. Discretely, with Jessica’s voice in the back of his mind, he tosses the last two out the window. His chicken nuggets sit untouched in the bottom of the red box. Dean has long since finished his burger and fries, now sipping happily on his Coke. After a few bubbly, slurping noises, Dean pulls off the straw with a satisfied, “Ah.”

Smiling at his brother, Dean sneaks a peak at Sam to see the young man sitting there with a very carefully neutral expression, the small paper bag for fries empty in his hand, and the box turned away from Dean.

“Hey, you alright?” Dean asks as casually as he can manage; he knows something’s up, he just doesn’t know what. Yet.

“Hm? Yeah, I’m fine.” Sam crumples his bag and tosses it into the box, which he closes immediately after. Shaking his bangs to the side, he sits still with his hands tightly gripping the top of the box, as if he could wish away the nuggets if he tried hard enough.

Eyes on the road, but attention on Sam, Dean wonders, “Did you like your food? You must have been hungry; I didn’t even see your chicken nuggets you ate them so fast.” Dean chuckles, keeping a light mood.

Sam grins a bit, “Yeah they were good. Haven’t had ‘em in a while.”

Seeing Dean nod and smile, Sam relaxes, his death grip on the box loosening as he lays his head back to rest.

 

\----

 

180 miles later and Dean has been yawning every minute for the past hour. Checking the blue road signs, he scans for any motels.

He finds one, and as he pulls in slowly, he notices Sam is sleeping, but not resting. His eyes move under his lids and his mouth twitches as if in pain. His eyes clench shut before snapping open with a gasp.

“Jess!”

“Woah, woah, hey, you okay?” Dean asks with concern.

Trying to catch his breath, Sam just nods, barely noticing as Dean starts to take his happy meal box from his hands. Sam’s fingers tighten, causing Dean to tug harder while saying, “Sam, I’m just trying to throw away the trash, gimme the box.”

Sam looks terrified, but releases his hold on the little yellow flaps.

“I’ll be right back, I’m just checking us in, ‘kay?”

Dean waits for Sam’s small, “Okay,” before leaving.

As Dean walks, his arms swing, and he hears something rattling in the box. He opens it, brows furrowing in confusion as he sees five chicken nuggets loosely sitting at the bottom of the box. Sam said he ate them, but…

Yawning again, Dean decides to forget about it and just check them in.

 

\----

 

Sam opens his eyes slowly, the dim sunlight seeming as bright as a spotlight. He sits up, opening his eyes fully, for a bit before falling back. Oh, but his head _hurts_. Nothing some water won’t help. 

He takes a deep breath and sits up again, slower this time. His breath gusts out of him with a whoosh.

“Sam?”

Sam gasps, turning his head far to quickly, feeling like he is going to spill the soup his brain has become. He takes a breath, a moment. “Yeah, what?”

Sleepily, Dean mumbles, “You okay?”

Sam nods before his brain decides that isn’t a good idea. “Yeah, m’good.”

He tries to stand, but his legs are too shaky, his brain fuzzy, his stomach empty. It growls.

Dean turns more towards his brother, raising an eyebrow. “Hungry much?”

Sam gives him a weak smile, trying to laugh at the joke. His mind is far too muddled for him to think, though, and it comes as more of a grimace.

“Sammy, seriously, get some food,” Dean demands when Sam’s stomach rumbles again.

“Yeah, I’ll. I’ll do that.” He gets up on wobbly legs and goes to the kitchenette across the room. Sam is making noise, fixing his imaginary breakfast, when he decides to make some real food for Dean.

His stomach growls, but Jess helps.

_You aren’t hungry._

He believes her.

 

\----

 

“Dean, wake up. I made food.”

“Hrmm...”

“Dean...”

“Wha?”

“Get. Up.”

Dean sluggishly pulls his eyes open, the scent of bacon rousing him from his dreams.

“Mmm, yummy,” he mumbles, kicking his legs over to stand up in one smooth move. On his way to the table, he stretches his back with several tiny pops.

“Looks good, man.”

There’s one plate on the table of eggs and bacon.

“Where’s yours, Sammy?”

But when Dean turns he can’t see Sam, but he hears the shower start. Seeing a cleared plate in the sink,  he guesses Sam must have already eaten.

Bacon and eggs filling his mouth, Dean hears a loud crash from the bathroom. He doesn’t hesitate; he stands and runs to the bathroom, knocking harshly.

“Sammy!”

No answer.

Dean opens the door. It isn’t even locked.

He rushes in, gasping at the sight of his brother.

“Sam!”

  
  
  
  


**End of Chapter 1**

 

 


	2. I'm Fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me being punctual! Yay! ^^  
> Anyway, you guys are so nice with your comments. Btw, I don't really have an opinion of Jessica. So sorry for character bashing if you like, but she was there. Also, John Winchester. He's not my favorite, but I've been vaguely informed that he's not so bad. He's going to seem like a bad guy, but this is Sam's subconscious perception of him.  
> So I've seen authors do this: 
> 
> Song: Operate by Three Days Grace 
> 
> Enjoy 
> 
> ^^

_Previously:_

 

_Dean hears a loud crash from the bathroom. He doesn’t hesitate; he stands and runs to the bathroom, knocking harshly._

_“Sammy!”_

_No answer._

_Dean opens the door. It isn’t even locked._

_He rushes in, gasping at the sight of his brother._

_“Sam!”_

 

**

 

 

“Sam!”

“No! Don’t look at me. I’m fine.”

Dean turns around, but doesn’t leave. The water keeps running.

“Sam? You sure you’re good, man?” Dean worries.

“Yeah, I’m good. I just slipped. I’m gonna finish my shower now.”

Dean doesn’t move.

“Dean?”

“Right, yeah, I’ll go. Sorry,” Dean awkwardly shuffles out of the small bathroom. He is about to sit on his bed when Sam calls, “Dean, can you shut the door?”

Dean blinks stupidly. He then bursts into action, leaping forward to pull the door shut.

Dean’s shaken and he doesn’t know why. Sam just fell, only slipped. So why is he so worried? Something’s not right, and Dean _will_ find out what.

 

**

 

Sam stands frozen, hands braced against the ledge of the shower wall, breathing heavily. Voices ring out in his head.

_Don’t let him see your fat body._

_You haven’t lost_ any _weight, have you?_

_He’s better than you._

The last one is his dad’s.

Sam feels wetness on his cheeks. He pretends it’s the spray of the shower.

_I’m fine._

Right?

 

**

 

The next day Sam is doing research in the local library, while Dean is out, probably flirting and goofing around. Sam rolls his eyes fondly.

It was close, yesterday; Dean almost saw him. But Sam’s shout had startled him too much for him to take any notice. Thank god.

Regarding the voices. Well, they’d always been around, they just change narrators from time to time. His dad, well, he’s always been there. And should Sam be surprised? No, of course not. Of course Dean is better; that’s just a fact.

But Jess, her lovely voice hadn’t showed up until a few weeks before she... died. They’d been together much longer than that.

And Sam still craved to hear her. Sometimes he’ll buy a doughnut, just to hear her, even if she’s calling him a disgusting pig. He’ll eat it if she isn’t loud enough. He smiles deprecatingly. Sometimes, when he’s really low, he’ll slap himself in the face with his eyes shut, pretending Jess caught him doing something stupid again. On his right cheek, because she was left handed.

 _Dumbass, what kind of idiot are you?_  

Sam opens his eyes he didn’t realise he shut. He checks his phone for the time. He should probably get back to the motel, Dean would be back soon.

 

**

 

Dean is in the Impala, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he waits for the light to turn green. He’s deep in thought, though, and a car behind him has to honk its horn before Dean drives forward.

Sam’s always been weird. That’s not quite true, though. He’s always been... _normal_. Which, to Dean and their dad, is weird. When Sam left, Dean hadn’t thought that he’d ever see his brother again. That last fight between Sam and dad had been loud and hurtful, each strike below the belt.

But his father hadn’t stopped Sam, so why should Dean have?

Now that Sam’s back, everything is upside down. They’re trying to find dad, but Sam seems terrified to actually see the man. He might understand if there had been less time after the fight, but it’s been over a year, and Sam doesn’t seem any closer to forgiving or apologising.

Finally he’s back at the motel, groceries in his arms, unlocking the door. It swings open, surprising him. But it’s only Sam.

“Oh, let me help you with those.” Sam takes two bags and turns quickly, heading to the counter in the kitchen.

Dean looks on with worried eyes. Sam’s little wrists look ready to snap under the light weight of the grocery bags. But Sam manages just fine, taking the last bag from Dean’s arm.

“Dean, this stuff looks great. But I hope you weren’t planning on cooking tonight? I’ve already eaten and I’m super full.” Sam looks at Dean with that earnest, innocent look, and Dean mentally changes his dinner plans.

“Nah, when do I cook?”

 

**

 

Sam sits on the worn couch, half reading, half watching the grainy tv. His stomach rumbles loudly. He quickly sets his book on it and pretends to sleep.

“Sam, you sure you’re not--” Dean cuts off, and Sam hears him walking around the couch and the tv clicks off. Dean gently takes Sam’s book from his hands, and Sam has to stop himself from covering his large belly.

A rough blanket is draped across him, and as Dean walks away, Sam really does begin to nod off.

 

**

 

Voices in his head make for a restless night, but Sam tries to fall back asleep every time.

_You should be exercising._

_You think your brother is being this lazy?_

“Shuddup...” Sam mumbles. He’s surprised to hear Dean.

“I didn’t say an’thing.”

“Sorry...”

Dean doesn’t respond, but there’s a tension in the air; he isn’t asleep.

This is a whole other problem between them, has been since Sam turned 14. Whenever they’re both awake in the dark, alone, dad gone, no sound save the gentle puffs of nervous breath, Sam gets... sweaty. Hot. His skin gets too tight and the covers are suddenly concrete.

He’s terrified about what Dean would think if he knew.

 

**

 

There it is. It’s that crackling, thick, heavy tension that grows between them during times like this. Baby Sammy isn’t a baby anymore, no sir. Sam has grown up into his broad shoulders. Maybe he’s still a little gangly, but it makes him more... innocent. It makes Dean hard and he feels like a dirty old man.

He’s terrified about what Sam would think if he knew.

 

**

Sam wakes up first, as usual, the next morning. His head hurts again, but it’s not quite the blinding pain from yesterday. He’s able to sit up and get out of bed without much trouble, stumbling groggily to the bathroom.

He gets undressed, clothes flopping to the floor in an untidy pile. He can’t bring himself to care. As he pulls down his underwear, it catches.

Well, shit.

Morning wood is not what he needs right now. He needs his blood supply in his brain, or he _will_ fall over again.

Time for a cold shower.

 

**

 

Dean peeks his eyes open as the shower starts. He stretches, his back popping lightly. He groans in pleasure. Looking down, he spots his morning wood.

Well, shit.

Morning wood is not what he needs right now. Sam is only in the other room. Naked. And wet. And Dean’s suddenly holding his prick.

“Fuck it,” he whispers, snuggling under the covers, turning away from the bathroom so when Sam comes out he won’t catch on too quickly.

 

**

 

Sam stands there, freezing his ass off, staring at his hard on. Why won’t it go away? He ignores is as best he can and reaches for the tiny bottle of motel shampoo. It slips and he has to kneel down to get it.

Sitting is so nice. Can’t he just stay there for a bit? The shower flow pulsates as if trying to get Sam back up.

He does stand, and he manages to get his hair and body washed, his erection finally getting the picture and going down.

He steps out, shivering, and wraps a towel around his waist. He has to reach back in because he forgot to turn off the spray while he was in there. The floor is soaked now. Whatever.

He throws open the door.

 

**

 

He can’t stop. Not. Yet. The shower shuts off. Shit! But he can’t. Just one more minute, one more, onemore...

The door opens and Sam is there and he’s oh, oh,--

“Oh!”

 

**

 

“Oh!”

Sam’s eyes fly open so wide, and his jaw drops down to the floor. He turns as quickly as he can, running back into the bathroom.

_What the hell?_

His head drops as Jess responds:

_At least he was too distracted to see your fat ass._

“I know...” he whispers.

He slides to the floor, the towel soaking all the water it can, and he can’t bring himself to remove his body. He lies down, hair soaking up more water. He’s crying.

Dean almost _saw_. He almost saw Sam’s gross, awful, disgusting, nasty...

Sam can’t stop crying, close to sobbing now. His shoulders shake and his eyes burn and he’s so _pathetic_.

Knocking on the door. “Sam? Are you okay? I swear, I just forgot, I mean, well, I wasn’t going to but...” He pauses, listening, probably. “Are you. Are you crying?”

Sam shakes his head even though Dean can’t see him.

“I’m fine.”


	3. Shut Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, sorry for the late update. My internet was being weird yesterday. Anyway, here's the new chapter! 
> 
> Song for this chapter: Happy Tragedy by Saint Asonia   
> ^^

_ Previously:  _

_ Dean almost  _ saw _. He almost saw Sam’s gross, awful, disgusting, nasty...  _

_ Sam can’t stop crying, close to sobbing now. His shoulders shake and his eyes burn and he’s so  _ pathetic _. _

_ Knocking on the door. “Sam? Are you okay? I swear, I just forgot, I mean, well, I wasn’t going to but...” He pauses, listening, probably. “Are you. Are you crying?” _

_ Sam shakes his head even though Dean can’t see him. _

_ “I’m fine.”  _

 

**

 

“I’m fine.” 

“No, Sam, you’re not. Something’s been going on for a while now, and I know you’re hiding something from me!” 

Sam doesn’t get up from the wet floor, too miserable to try facing Dean. 

_ Right, like you  _ could  _ get up if you wanted to. _

“Shut up,” Sam mumbles. 

“No, Sam, I’m not going to leave this time. Open the door!” 

_ Your chubby fingers can’t grip the doorknob. _

“Shut up!” 

“Sam, open the door!” 

_ Dumbass, fat, gross, you’re so useless!  _

“Open the door!” 

“Shut up! Shutupshutupshutup! SHUT UP!”

“Sam...” 

_ How cute, he cares about your sorry ass.  _

Sam can’t stop crying, he’s sobbing, disgusting snot running down his face, getting in his hair. The door slams open, hitting Sam on the butt and scooting him forward with the force. 

“Sam!” 

Dean flails a little before jumping into action. He grabs his baby brother by the shoulders, sitting him up. “Sam, Sammy, come on,” he whispers. 

Sam opens his eyes, flinching at the look on Dean’s face. He grasps Sam’s face in his rough fingers. “Hey, man, you’re okay, you’re gonna be okay. Sam, I promise.” 

Dean keeps whispering assurances, holding Sam tight. 

Struggling, Dean stands Sam up, He is shocked at how light his brother is, given his height advantage. He sets Sam on the bed closest to the bathroom door and gasps when he sees the reason. 

Sam is skinny. Too skinny. Way past attractive, even unhealthy, and into downright anorexic. 

_ He didn’t eat his chicken nuggets. _

But he ate dinner last night.  

Right? 

Dean didn’t  _ see _ him eat it, but why would Sam lie? 

“Shut up, shut up, shut up...” Sam is mumbling miserably. 

“Oh, Sam...” 

 

**

 

“Don’t.” 

Dean looks into those hazel eyes. “What?”

Sam doesn’t return his gaze. “Don’t, don’t look at me. I’m, I’m trying, I swear. I am. I am. I am,” Sam rambles off. 

“Sam, trying what?”  

_ Even Dean knows how fat you are. You think he’ll ever look at you again after he’s seen you? _

“Dean, don’t look at me, please.” 

He can feel Dean’s stare hot on his face. He blushes, the red spreading down his flabby chest. He wraps his arms around himself, sweaty skin sticking and dragging. He moans at the ugly sensation. 

“Sam...” 

Sam won’t open his eyes; he’s not going to see the look of disgust he know is in Dean’s eyes. 

His chest hurts, his stomach turning, his skin too tight, not big enough to hold in all his fat. He claws and grabs at the loose flesh on his stomach. “Get off get off...” 

 

**

 

Dean stares in horror at Sam. He’s scratching and pulling at his barely there stomach, his visible ribcage heaving in and out with horrible, miserable sobs and whimpers. 

“Sammy, stop that,” he tries to grab those tiny wrists, but Sam yanks his whole body away from Dean. 

“Don’t, don’t touch me, you’ll feel it,” he cries. 

“Feel what, Sam? Your skeleton?” Dean’s angry now; he doesn’t know why he is so mad, but suddenly there is a blinding rage flashing through him. He stands forcfully, dropping Sam to the floor. “What the hell is wrong with you, Sam? I have been there for you through everything and now you won’t talk to me!” 

Sam just lies there, silent, but Dean can see his frail body shaking violently with empty sobs. An awful, terrible noise crawls out of Sam’s throat. It’s a low whine, like a wounded animal, like a broken toy. 

“Sam.  _ Sam _ . ANSWER ME!” 

 

**

 

_ NO! ahhhhhh, god just stop stop stoooooooop, please oh...  _

_ Pathetic baby.   _

_ Can’t you be more like Dean?  _

_ Dumbass.  _

_ He’s more of a man than you’ll ever be.  _

_ You’re so gross.  _

_ Have you ever seen Dean cry like this?  _

_ Awful, horrible boyfriend!  _

_ Lonely, terrible son!  _

He can’t think, the voices are so  _ loud _ . Why, why? His stomach is tightening, so hard and he can’t breathe, he’s gagging,  _ I can’t do this anymore _ . 

He lunges to the toilet, vomiting and crying and hurting. There are needles being shoved into his head, hammers on his stomach, his ribs are disintegrating into useless dust. 

“I’m  _ sorry _ !” 

_ It’s too late, you got me killed.  _

_ You’ll never be him.  _

_ I’m dead because of  _ you. 

_ You were never good enough.  _

“I’m sorry, I can’t, I was  _ trying _ , pleasepleaseplease I don’t want to do this anymore I can’t, just  _ kill me _ !”

 

**

 

Dean’s anger flows away. Something is seriously wrong with Sam, more than he originally thought. Sam is mumbling and shouting nonsense, talking to voices and people that aren’t there and then he--

“Just  _ kill me _ !” 

Dean’s breath leaves him. 

No. Not Sammy. 

“Sam...” There’s nothing Dean can say. This is his baby brother, his Sammy, he was supposed to  _ protect _ him. Now he wants to  _ die _ . What can Dean do? He has no idea how to help with this kind of thing. No-one ever helped him through his low period; he had to work through it on his own. 

He kneels down again, pulling his brother in close. “Sh, shh, Sam. Calm down.” 

They sit there for nearly half an hour, Sam slowly quieting. 

“Hey, you,” Dean half grins, turning Sam’s face. “Wanna tell me?” 

Sam doesn’t answer, but Dean knows he understands. 

“Please?” 

Sam takes a shuddery breath, and nods. 

 

**

 

Sam doesn’t make eye contact as he starts explaining. 

“I... I don’t want you to see me, and you... you did. Now you know how...” he trails off, ashamed. 

“Know how what, Sam?” Dean’s tone is soft and Sam isn’t so afraid. 

“You can see my, my body and how, how, how  _ disgusting _ it is. I am.” His shoulders hunch up, pulling into himself. 

_ There, you’ve told him. Now what? You know he’ll just leave you.  _

“Sammy, Sam, no, you are not disgusting, why would you say that?” 

Dean looks genuinely confused. 

Sam sits up a bit, gesturing to his round body. “This, here.” 

Dean’s eyebrows furrow. “Sam, there ain’t hardly anything there, what am I supposed to be looking at?” 

Sam narrows his eyes in frustration; why is Dean playing dumb? 

He sits up more, swallowing his nausea and gripping his fat rolls. “This,” he says, shaking it. “All this, all my...” Great, he’s too pathetic to even say it. 

“All of what, Sam? You’re not making any sense.” Dean shifts more comfortably. “Sam, you’re hurting yourself, let go.” He gesture to where Sam is holding his stomach. 

Sam just grips harder, pulling on it, trying to rip it off. 

“Sam, stop! What the hell are you doing?” 

Sam feels Dean’s strong hands on his arms, tugging him gently but firmly. “Stop it Sammy,” he says softly. Sam drops his hands, mortified to have Dean so close. 

“Dean, don’t you get it? Can’t you see?” Sam whispers. 

“Sam, I have no idea what you’re talking about. You keep pointing to your body. Are you upset because you’re too skinny? ‘Cause we can fix--” 

“Too skinny? Are you insane; I’m huge!” 

Dean stares at him, multiple emotions flitting across his face. “Is... is that what you think?” 

Sam looks at Dean strangely. “Why wouldn’t I? Look at me...” 

 

**

 

_ What the hell? He can’t be serious _ . 

“Sam, you, you’re not... fat, or big, or any of that. You have always been lithe, man, but this is ridiculous. I can see your ribs.” 

“Dean, it’s, you don’t get it, I’m not skinny enough. I need to lose weight so I can be helpful. I can do better, I promise, I will Dean. I’ll be good, I’ll... I can do whatever you want. You won’t even have to look at me. I’d get on all fours, you wouldn’t see--” 

“Sam!” 

Sam stares with his kicked puppy look. Those bright, hazel eyes, shining with tears, look at Dean like whatever he says will determine the fate of Sam’s life. 

“Sam, I don’t... how long have you been...” he trails off, gesturing vaguely. 

“Please, Dean, I’ll do whatever you want.” 

And that’s what scares Dean. He knows. He knows Sam will do anything Dean asks. Even... that, apparently. 

“Sam, how long?” 

“How long what?” 

“How long have you been like this?” 

“You mean, so big?” 

Dean shakes his head. “No, how long have you thought you were?” 

“That’s, that’s the same thing, Dean.” 

Dean shuts his eyes, dropping his head. 

“Sam, I don’t know what to do. I can’t make you see.” 

Opening his eyes, Dean makes a decision. He stands, grabbing Sam’s delicate fingers. 

“Come on, stand.” 

Sam snatches a hand away to grab onto his towel. He gets up shakily, knees wobbling. Dean grips his shoulders, turning him in the direction of the mirror. 

“Look,” he demands. 

Sam turns his face away so as not to see himself. Dean grips his chin firmly, turning Sam’s face. 

“Look,” he says again. 

Sam tries to shake his head no, but he is caught is Dean’s strong hand. Dean’s other arm is wrapping around Sam, over the thin stomach. His hand moves down from Sam’s chin to his throat, where Dean teases at squeezing. 

“Look,” Dean tells Sam, squeezing a little harder than he had before. Sam’s breath picks up, and he raises his chin to loosen the pressure. Dean tugs him closer with the arm around his waist, the hand pulsing the grip with different strengths. 

“ _ Look _ ,” Dean squeezes hard enough to actually inhibit Sam’s breath now, and Sam opens his eyes, looking right into Dean’s through the mirror. Dean stares at him and god... 

Sam’s soft mouth is open, his face pink and his pupils blown. He’s panting lightly, looking around the mirror, down to where Dean is holding him close, up to the tan hand on his pale throat, back over to Dean’s face, and travels slowly to land on the tent just below Dean’s arm. 

Sam gasps. Dean thinks it’s hot. 

 

**

 

Sam gasps. He thinks this is awful. “Dean, I’m sorry, I’m uhhh!--” Dean’s hand closes more on his throat. Sam isn’t going to make it through this without destroying his relationship with Dean forever. 

“Don’t,” Dean, oh shit, Dean  _ growls _ . Sam’s eyebrows pinch and what’s left of his pupils are blown to hell. 

“Dean,” he chokes out breathlessly. He’s so embarrassed; getting off not only on being choked and held, but by his  _ brother _ . He’s such a freak. He renews his struggles to release himself from Dean’s hold. 

Dean squeezes even  _ tighter _ , and Sam has to close his eyes when Dean starts talking. 

“Sam, be still. Open your eyes. Come on, yeah, good boy,” Dean mumbles to the nape of Sam’s neck. Sam shivers, his eyes open, but only just. they are half lidded and blurred. His mouth gapes open like a fish trying to breathe. 

Dean lifts his hand, pulling Sam up by the neck and forcing him onto tiptoe. He scrabbles for purchase on the vanity, fingers slipping on the slick surface. Dean steps forward, pressing Sam’s stomach into the hard edge. His hips are pushed against it roughly. 

Finally, disappointingly, the hand moves from his neck, but it comes, along with the other one, to circle Sam’s waist. The fingers touch in the front so much they are almost interlaced, and Sam can feel the thumbs touching at the small of his back. 

“Now Sam,” Dean starts, voice like gravel, “look.” 

Sam looks. 

“What do you see?” 

He sees Dean’s face over his shoulder, Dean’s hands over his stomach, holding so tight it makes Sam’s body look almost... small. 

“I see you,” he answers, deliberately not mentioning himself. 

“You see me? You see my hands? You see me wrapped around you? You see me, but can you see  _ you _ ?” 

Sam swallows, looking in the mirror again, trying to look at himself. 

“You are beautiful, Sam.” Dean’s hands squeeze very gently. “Beautiful.” 

Sam can’t help but shake his head. “No, Dean,” he says miserably. 

“What part of you isn’t beautiful?” 

“Everything, Dean, everything.” 

“Be specific.” Dean is being strange, but Sam indulges him. 

“My... my stomach,” he starts with. 

Dean pulses his grip again. “Why?” 

“It’s big. Too big.” 

Dean nods and moves his hands. He turns Sam around so he faces Dean. Dean puts his calloused hands against the smooth surface of Sam’s belly. He massages it with his thumbs, fingers moving along the sides

“This is big? Sammy, my hands fit around you completely. I’ve got you.” 

Sam breathes out sharply. 

“Dean...” His voice is a soft whisper. Those rough hands are being so gentle, so soft. Those thumbs are pushing into his stomach, massaging the bones sticking out. Sam looks down. 

“Can you see now, Sam? Can you see this?” Dean asks, running his fingers along Sam’s ribs. And Sam, just for a moment, sees. He sees the physical impossibility of Dean’s hands fitting around something so large. But-- 

But as quick as it was, it’s gone. 

Sam grabs Dean’s arms, trying to push him away. 

“No, I don’t. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Dean held tighter. “No, Sam.” He pulls him closer, nearly grinding against him. His head bows down and he whispers hotly into Sam’s ear. “See what I see, Sam. Look at what you do to me.” He  _ is _ grinding on him now, and Sam can’t breathe. 

“No, I... I can't...” 

“Yes, you can Sam. You can.” Dean turns Sam back around to face the mirror. Dean is red-faced and so beautiful. Sam looks at himself next to this gorgeous man. 

“But...” 

“No buts, Sammy. Can’t you feel me?” 

And Sam does, he feels Dean’s hot body pressed up against his back, his arms wrapped around and squeezing Sam so deliciously, his-- 

Wait. 

Sam’s eyes widen. Somehow, before he felt... it, there, this wasn’t quite so real. But with that thickness against him, Sam gasps for breath. 

_ He’s my brother! _

_ What am I doing? _

“Dean, you’re, why are you doing this?” 

 

**

 

Dean freezes. 

_ Why  _ am _ I doing this?  _

_ This is my baby brother. _

“I...” 

Why  _ am I doing this? _

“Dean? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--” 

“No, Sammy, you’re fine, you’re good. I just. Well, I’m not sure, I guess.” Dean slowly releases his hold, only barely hearing Sam’s whimper. 

“Sam?” he asks. 

“I, well, you don’t have to leave if you don’t want to,” he mumbles softly in reply. 

Neither of them are looking in the mirror. 

“Sam?” 

“I just mean... I don't know. I thought maybe...”

_ He wants this. _

Dean growls deep in his throat, hands tightening once more around Sam. 

“You, you want this?” He doesn't mean it to come out like that, like he's talking dirty to his brother. But the way Sam reacts. God. 

He  _ whimpers _ , slim hips twitching, his stomach contracting, his eyes fluttering, looking at Dean like he hung the moon himself. 

He sways, and Dean steadies him, nosing the back of Sam's damp curls. “Sammy, say no,” Dean says desperately. 

_ If Sam says no, I'll stop. _

“Sammy, I swear, if you say no, I’ll stop.” 

“...”

Dean waits with bated breath. 

“I’m confused.” 

Dean wasn’t expecting that, but it makes sense. 

Dean pulls back from Sam a bit, looking over his tangled mop to his eyes. “What are you confused about?” 

_ Why are you so gross, touching your baby brother like that?  _

_ You’re so desperate; you need to get laid. _

“Why me?” 

What. 

“Why me, out of the millions of people you could have? I’m not pretty, I’m not a  _ girl _ , I’m ugly and fat and stupid, you can’t want me, I’m horrible--” 

“Sam,” he breathes out. “Sam, I can’t stand hearing you talk this way.” He backs up more, putting distance between himself and Sam. He takes him by the hand, leading him out to the bed. 

Sam sits, a confused pout on his face-- his not ugly, not fat, not stupid face. Dean grabs a fluffy towel and drapes it over Sam. After the towle, Dean’s arm comes around. 

“Sam.” He heaves out a sigh. “Sam, we need to talk about this.” 

“About what?” Sam mumbles, like he knows but is too afraid to talk about it. 

“I think you know. I wanna know who made you feel this way about yourself. Who made you sink so low, Sam?” 

“I...” Sam shakes his head, brown locks swishing and bouncing in the in-between stage of wet and dry hair. “She, they didn’t  _ make _ me feel... I just am.” 

_ She. She she she. Dammit, who is she? _

“Wait. Jess?” Dean asks hesitantly. Sam’s eyes flinch, and Dean knows he got it. “You also said ‘they’. Who else?” 

Sam shuts his eyes, probably hating Dean for this, and whispers, “D-dad, but--” 

Dean has fire in his eyes. “What.” He takes Sam’s chin in his hand, rougher than he meant to, and turned Sam to face him. “What did dad do or say?” he demanded. 

“I,” Sam curls in on himself. “I can’t tell you.” 

“You can’t, why?” 

Sam shifts even more into himself. 

“He said I couldn’t tell you.” 

Something is... not right. Dean’s instinct is saying... but it’s their dad, and he would never. Would he? No, of course not. 

But Dean has to ask. 

“Was he drunk, Sam?” 

A solemn nod. 

“Was he... himself?” 

Sam shakes his head no. 

“...Did he... do something?” 

Sam is stock-still, save the fine tremor running along his small body. 

He nods very slowly. 

Dean swallows. “Sam... has anyone ever... You know you can tell me anything, right? Anything at all?” 

Sam looks unsure but he nods. 

“And, and you’d tell me if someone hurt you?” 

Another very slow nod. 

“Even if they were nice, or ‘didn’t mean it’?”

Sam looks at him sharply, as if Dean read his mind and now Dean is  _ terrified _ . 

“Sam?” he asks roughly, throat tight. 

“If...” Sam says, so softly that Dean has to lean in to hear him. “If they didn’t mean to, it doesn’t count.” 

Sam’s big watery eyes look to him for answers. 

Dean hates it, but he has to ask: “How many times?” 

Sam turns away, giving a small shrug after a moment of silence. 

Dean shuts his eyes. If Sam lost count, then that means... 

Blinking back tears of his own, Dean questions, “When did it. Did it start?” 

Sam shrugs again, but Dean can tell he’s just not answering. “You can tell me  _ anything _ , Sam.” 

“I was... like, thirteen, I guess.” 

Dean can’t keep it in anymore. “Thirteen! You were thirteenand dad couldn’t keep his hands off you!” 

Sam stands. “No! Dean, no, not dad.” 

Dean is confused. “But you said.” 

“I didn’t say anything. What I implied was that he did  _ something _ , not that.” 

Dean narrows his eye. “Did he?” 

Sam doesn’t answer, but his silence is answer enough. 

“So you’re,  _ implying _ that dad and someone else have been doing things to you for ten years?” 

“Dad was... it was one time and he really  _ didn’t _ mean it!” 

Dean shakes his head. “And the other times?” 

Sam looks shaken down and broken. “I don’t know how many. It was... different. But the, the guy who, I guess he ran it, well, he was my tutor, and he brought other students over sometimes and he, he didn’t do much, not at first I guess, but he always told us what to, and he, he like it when I cried, when one of the older guys made me bleed, he was...” 

“...a monster,” Dean finishes. 

Dean can’t stand himself. How could he not have  _ known _ ? 

Both of them are speechless. Neither looks at the other but Dean is acutely aware of Sam’s scared presence. He’s clearly terrified and frightened, and Dean keeps making it worse with these questions. But he  _ has to know _ . 

“Sam...” 

“No.” Sam’s voice is raw with emotion and barely shed tears. “You weren’t sup-supposed to know any of that. That was, was mi-ine!” His breath hitches every so often, chopping his words. 

“Sam.” 

“No, shut  _ up _ !” 

  
  
  
  
  


**End of Chapter 3**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! So something almost happened. It will, don’t worry. There will likely be quite disturbingly graphic flashbacks in future chapters, btw. As well as some funtimes ;D  
> Kudos have the little heart on them for a reason! Feed the author with love XD  
> Comments are great too, and you guys are so nice! 
> 
> ^^


	4. I Can't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So I'm posting today because tomorrow I am going to be hella busy. Also, sorry for missing last week's update, I hadn't finished the chapter xD So here you are, enjoy. 
> 
> Song for this chapter: You Fight Me by Breaking Benjamin
> 
> ^^
> 
>  
> 
> WARNING: This chapter contains dub-con/attempted non-con. Heavy angst, beware.

 

_Previously:_

_Sam looks shaken down and broken. “I don’t know how many. It was... different. But the, the guy who, I guess he ran it, well, he was my tutor, and he brought other students over sometimes and he, he didn’t do much, not at first I guess, but he always told us what to, and he, he like it when I cried, when one of the older guys made me bleed, he was...”_

_“...a monster,” Dean finishes._

_Dean can’t stand himself. How could he not have_ known?

 _Both of them are speechless. Neither looks at the other but Dean is acutely aware of Sam’s scared presence. He’s clearly terrified and frightened, and Dean keeps making it worse with these questions. But he_ has to know.

_“Sam...”_

_“No.” Sam’s voice is raw with emotion and barely shed tears. “You weren’t sup- supposed to know any of that. That was, was mi-ine!” His breath hitches every so often, chopping his words._

_“Sam.”_

_“No, shut_ up _!”_

 

**

 

Sam rushes back into the bathroom, bag in hand. He needs to change, needs to cover himself up. He needs Dean to forget he saw anything.

He got hard, he got hard from his _brother_. And now Dean knows how desperate and disgusting Sam is and was. He's such a freak. And Dean doesn’t even know what Sam did.

**

Dean stares at the bathroom door, shame filling him. He can't believe he tried to touch his baby brother, his Sam.

He basically molested him, touched him when Sam said _no_. He was a monster, and Sam would never forgive him.

Then there's the other thing. Sam said that Dean wasn't supposed to know any of that. Dean feels awful for asking Sam those questions when he was so vulnerable.

Dean can't get Sam's terrified face out of his head. Or Sam’s body. That body, so small, so little. And Sam thought he was big. It was Jess and... Dad. He can't reconcile the man he knows with a man who would even once touch his child in such a manner.

For Sam to say he _really didn't mean it_ , well maybe dad was possessed? But Sam confirmed Dean's suspicions that dad was drunk. Meaning dad was only possessed by alcohol, and was still coordinated enough to get Sam and hold him down. Hold him down and make him...

Sam’s damaged now, and Dean has no idea how to fix it.

**

Sam sits sullenly, staring out the car window and trying not to scream. Dean keeps acting like nothing happened. He keeps patting Sam on the back, or the shoulder, as if his hands weren’t around Sam’s throat and body just yesterday.

Dean’s stomach rumbles loudly. “Whew, time for some burgers!” he exclaims. “Burger King cool?” he asks, giving Sam a short glance. It sounds casual on the surface, but Sam knows better. Still, he just shrugs.

“Sure.”

Dean pulls off at the next exit, and Sam hopes there isn’t a Burger King.

Unfortunately, there is, and Dean drives into the parking lot, skipping the drive through lane and going directly to a parking spot.

Uneasy, Sam asks Dean, “What are we doing?”

Dean looks at him with mock surprise on his face. “Well, gee, I don’t know, I only said I was getting burgers. What ever could I be doing at a _Burger_ King?”

Sam’s eyes narrow. “Whatever, jerk.”

Dean gets out of the car, walking around to Sam’s side where he opens the door for him. “You coming, bitch?”

Sam grins slightly. He can never stay mad at Dean.

**

Dean grins and turns around. _Success!_ he thinks.

Until it’s their turn to order.

Dean finishes up his request, and steps aside for Sam. Sam looks like it pains him to step up to the counter.

“Um, I’ll, uh, have a water, I guess.” He smiles politely at the sour woman taking their orders. She reaches for two cups, one large for Dean’s Coke, and a small one for the water. Sam grabs the cups and goes to the machine to fill them up. Dean stands over by the counter again.

“Hey, could I get another large fry? Thanks, sugar.” He pays the unamused woman and waits for his food, standing and feeling like he should be tapping his foot. Finally, the food comes out on the tray, and Dean turns around with it, searching for wherever Sam sat down.

Dean wanders through the small building, wondering where Sam could have possibly gone. He finds a small water cup sitting next to a large drink. Dean sets the tray down and begins pulling out food. Sam’s probably just hitting the head. Should be back any minute.

Any minute...

...

He’s taking too long. Dean huffs and stands, going to the bathroom.

**

Sam stares at his shaking figure in the mirror. His cheeks are red, making them even more bloated than usual. He feels faint and dizzy. The lights are too bright and the ground won’t stop moving. He turns and tries to get himself to the toilet to throw up, but misses and ends up dry heaving over the floor.

It hurts, like an elephant on his chest and a marching band in his head. He waits on the ground for who knows how long. He barely registers the door opening.

“Sammy!”

He feels Dean around him, and a sharp sense of Déjà vu runs through him. “No, Dean, get away from me,” he says. Or tries to. His mouth won’t move and his brain won’t form words so he has no idea what he just said.

“What? Sam, I can’t understand you.”

Sam feels Dean as he scoots closer, trying to listen.

“Go ‘way, D’n...”

“You’re on the dirty-ass floor of a Burger King bathroom. Even for you, that’s pathetic,” he jokes.

Sam tries to smile, because he wants to be better for Dean. Sam feels himself being lifted, dragged to the car and stuffed into the backseat. A few minutes later, Dean gets in, throwing the rest of the food in Sam’s usual place.  

“Come on Sammy, let’s go get some rest.”

**

Dean looked over at the sleeping Sam, who was tossing and turning a bit. It looks like a nightmare, but not like the usual ones about Jess. Sam’s are still clenched shut, his lips tight, and his hands wrung in the sheets, but somehow, _somehow_ , it’s different.

Tears start to leak out of those eyes, his chest hitches with sobs and his mouth opens so he can breathe. Dean can’t watch anymore.

“Sam, come on Sam, wake up.” He nudges him gently, then more firmly when Sam doesn’t wake. Dean continues jostling him, and he wakes with a sharp gasp.

His eyes are big and wet, shining his sorrow. “Dean, I’m sorry, please, I’ll do it, I’ll do it, but just don’t, don’t...”

Dean’s scared now. “Sam, don’t what? You know I’ll never hurt you, right?”

Sam doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Sam. You do know, don’t you?”

Sam gives him an unconvincing shrug.

Dean sighs. “What were you dreaming about?”

Sam’s eyebrows pinch, and he turns to Dean, still not looking at him. Dean gives him a minute. Then another. And five minutes later Dean is about to give up.

“It was, um,” Sam clears his throat. “Um, y-you. And you were, m-mad at me because...”

And Sam stops, fear in his eyes. It’s like he can’t see what in front of him and Dean realises he’s having a flashback to whatever dream he just had.

“No... I--”

**

_Sam’s lying in bed, eyes sliding shut, his body moving with soft breaths. The door slams open. Dean walks in, furious._

_“Goddammit, Sam, I can’t believe you would--” he cuts off, too angry to speak. Sam is sitting up now, but he’s naked. He reaches for the blanket, but it’s gone, and there’s only a towel around his waist. His hair is wet, and Sam guesses he just got out of the shower. But wasn’t he just in bed?_

_Dean strides over to him, a strong hand pushing hard on Sam’s chest until Dean’s hovering over Sam’s prone body. Dean has hate in his eyes, not lust. Dean’s lips curl into a sneer. “You’re disgusting,” he hisses._

_Sam feels tears prick at his eyes. Dean’s hands leave but there are restraints around Sam’s wrists now. He jerks his hands but they don’t budge. “Dean, what are you--” Dean slaps him across the face, hard. Sam is reeling, dizzy, and he feels Dean pulling on his legs. His towel is gone now and Dean is still completely clothed. It makes Sam feel so exposed._

_He yanks his arms again, trying to cover himself. Dean laughs. “You think you can hide from me? Well, you’re wrong. I should have done this when dad did. You were beautiful then. So small, innocent. Now, though, you’re fat, ugly, broken. You’ve been used, by dad, Jessica, whoever your_ tutor _was.”_

_Sam feel tears ripping out of his eyes. “Dean, why are you saying this to me?”_

_Dean’s roughly moving Sam around and suddenly Sam is on his stomach, hands shackled to the headboard. “Because you don’t seem to know.” Dean’s hands are rough on Sam in a way they’ve never been before. He spreads Sam’s legs by grabbing his ankles tightly. When his legs are spread, Dean’s fingers trail deceptively soft along his calves, knees, the smooth skin of his inner thighs. Sam’s muscles clench, and he can feel Dean’s hands clutch harshly._

_“Don’t you dare try to close these,” Dean warns in a low voice. Sam whimpers reflexively moving his legs shut just the tiniest bit when Dean removes his grip. That’s still too much, apparently, and Dean slaps Sam’s ass hard. Again. Again. And again and again and again and again, again, againagainagain._

_“D-dean! Sto-sto-OP!” Sam yells. Dean moans._

_“God, Sammy, you scream so sweet for me.” His hand rains down over and over on Sam’s ass and Sammy’s moans raise in pitch. When Sam’s head looks over his shoulder, it isn’t Dean anymore, but Mr. Cooper._

_“No!” Sam shouts and thrashes, not wanting the pain he knows is coming. His voice is younger, and he looks at his arms. They’re smaller, and Sam realises he’s about fourteen now._

_The wall where the headboard was vanishes and the bed is left in an empty room. There is now room for a man to stand and stroke Sam’s hair. Sam feels that hand yank his hair and he is forced to look up._

_No._

_“Dad?”_

_John smiles. “Sammy, you’re so beautiful like this.”_

_Sam tries to look away but his head is held in place. John hold him still with one hand, the other fumbling with his pants. Sam cries. He feels his ass getting spanked again and hears John say, “Good Dean, show him.”_

_“No! No, no.”_

_Dean moans. “Sam. Sam.”_

_“Sam!”_

“Sam! Come on, Sam, wake up.”

Sam’s eye snap open, terrified.

“Dean.”

Dean comforts him, but he asks Sam what he was dreaming about and Sam can’t just _tell him_. He stays silent for a good while. Dean isn’t leaving.

“It was, um,” Sam begins softly. “Um, y-you. And you were, m-mad at me because...”

And Sam stops, because he can’t look at Dean. Dean will hurt him, dad will, and, and...

“No... I--”

“Sam,” he hears distantly.

“I can’t.”

  
  
  
  


**End of Chapter 4**

 


	5. You Don't Know What I've Done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, a wild chapter appeared. A day early, but there is no way I'm going to be able to post anything tomorrow. 
> 
> Song for this chapter: One More Night by Maroon 5 
> 
> WARNING: There will be smut in this chapter, as well as some heavy angst from Sam dealing with not really being ready for it and from Dean about his guilt for hurting Sam. Not quite dub-con. 
> 
> ^^

 

_ Previously:  _

_ “Sam! Come on, Sam, wake up.” _

_ Sam’s eye snap open, terrified. _

_ “Dean.” _

_ Dean comforts him, but he asks Sam what he was dreaming about and Sam can’t just  _ tell him _. He stays silent for a good while. Dean isn’t leaving. _

_ “It was, um,” Sam begins softly. “Um, y-you. And you were, m-mad at me because...” _

_ And Sam stops, because he can’t look at Dean. Dean will hurt him, dad will, and, and... _

_ “No... I--” _

_ “Sam,” he hears distantly. _

_ “I can’t.” _

 

**

 

Dean has no idea what to do. It’s been three days and Sam is acting like he’s fine. He refuses food still, but smiles at Dean like it’s okay. And it’s not. Nothing is okay. Whatever nightmare Sam had has caused him to flinch away every time Dean even got near him. Dean can see Sam getting weaker and weaker. He’s losing his mind trying to figure out how to help Sam. 

Dean doesn’t want to give up, but he doesn’t know what to do. He sits on the small motel bed while Sam showers. Tears fall down his eyes and he starts crying. Really crying, like he did when dad hit him for the first time. 

“Sam... what can I do?” 

 

**

 

Sam leans against the cold tiles in the shower where the water doesn’t reach. He doesn’t know what to do. He knows what he’s doing is not okay. He can see his body and how big it is, but he knows, logically, that not eating means he’s losing weight. So shouldn’t he be getting smaller? 

Dean seemed to think Sam was crazy for thinking he was big. But Sam is big, was Dean just trying to make him feel better? No, he was really, truly confused. Even Dean isn’t that good at acting. Not to Sam at least. 

Maybe... 

No there isn’t anything wrong with him. 

His stomach growls and he grimaces in pain as it twists. He feels like his stomach is trying to eat itself. Maybe he could eat a snack. He’ll just go running for a few hours after. 

He shuts off the water. Stepping out of the shower, he grabs a towel, wrapping around his waist after a cursory drying. He stares. 

His body is finally losing weight. He’s even got some muscle. Sam smiles very slightly. Maybe Dean will want him now. Only one way to find out. 

 

**

 

Dean looks up when the shower door opens. Sam walks out, his skinny hips barely holding up his towel. Dean can’t look away, but not in fear for Sam this time, but lust for his baby brother. He was getting some muscle and even though it looked like a light breeze could blow him away, Dean still thinks he’s beautiful. 

Sam just stands there, silently staring at Dean. Dean’s eyebrows twitch. Sam turns away, walking to his bed to get dressed. Dean doesn’t follow with his eyes, just keeps staring blankly at the place where Sam was dripping on the carpet. 

After a few minutes of Dean not moving and Sam rustling behind him, Dean feels the bed dip with a weight. He does nothing. Sam slowly, hesitantly, slides his fingertips along Dean’s clothed shoulder, down to where his muscled arm bulges the black t-shirt he’s wearing. He hears Sam’s breath rush in shakily. 

He does nothing. 

Sam takes a breath, and it sounds determined, like he’s made a decision. Then his slim but large hands are crawling up and over to Dean’s chest, brushing lightly over Dean’s nipples. Dean’s breath catches, but... 

He does nothing. 

Sam’s hands are going everywhere, trailing under Dean’s shirt and playing along the hot skin of his stomach. They travel closer inwards, through the very light amount of hair on his belly going down. Sam pulls on the shirt, tugging it up. Dean wants to raise his arms to help. 

He does nothing. 

He hears Sam make a noise behind him and then he feels soft, soft lips at the nape of his neck. Dean’s head falls forward. Sam purrs, trying again to remove the shirt. 

“You don’t want this, Sam.” Dean’s voice is rough, like he swallowed gravel. 

“Yes I do, Dean. Just. Let me?” And his honey-sweet voice breaks Dean’s control. 

He does something. 

He stands, turns around sharply. His arms shoot out to grab the wide-eyed Sam at the shoulders, where he then pushes him back. Sam is lying on the bed, making soft gasps. Dean can’t take it and kisses the sounds out of his pink mouth. 

God. 

Sam tastes good. Sweet and bitter with coffee, slick with their mixed saliva, getting rougher with each passing second. Dean growls, and he removes his t-shirt, almost ripping it. Sam is already naked, the towel gone, and Dean can’t be expected to resist, can he? 

He drags his nails down Sam’s torso, and back up, flicking over those pink nubs, and Sam yelps, hips wiggling. Dean wants to wring more of those sounds out of him. Sam is so sensitive, so responsive, and Dean couldn’t ask for anything better. 

He takes his mouth away from Sam’s sweet lips, moving on to his soft neck. Dean wants to mark him, show everyone who this boy belongs to. Before he knows it, Dean is doing just that and Sam is moaning like he wants nothing else than this. Dean tears himself away, a large red spot darkening on Sam’s pale skin. 

“Turn around,” Dean demands and his voice his barely recognisable as his own. Sam whimpers and wriggles around until his ass is up and Dean is basically drooling. Those pale globes are round, and perky, and perfect, and Dean just can’t. 

Sam just had a shower, he should be clean, right? Who cares. 

Dean lowers his mouth to Sam’s ass and Sam squeals, moving and twisting. Dean slaps his right cheek and Sam freezes. Dean hardly notices. He smacks Sam again, loving the sound of his hand on the soft skin. 

Dean leans over to the bedside table where he keeps his lube. Sam starts moving, trying to get up. 

“Don’t move,” Dean growls. 

Sam stops, halfway turned, and Dean sees his face. 

“Sam?” he asks, worried. “You can turn if you want, Sam.” He doesn’t know why Sam isn’t moving. 

“I,” Sam starts, his voice is soft. “I wanted to, um...” he mumbles the rest and Dean has no idea what he said. 

“What’s that, Sammy?” 

Sam blushes, turning the rest of the way around. “I want to, to suck you.” 

Dean can’t breathe. He gets his voice back and squeaks-- in a very manly way-- “Yeah, uh, okay.” 

Sam situates himself around Dean and moves Dean’s legs so that he has room and access to Dean. His bright wide eyes look into Dean’s, reminding Dean just how young Sam still is, even as an adult. He feels bad that it turns him on. Sam fumbles around with Dean’s pants, finally pulling him out. 

Dean shuts his eyes, he can’t help it, when Sam’s mouth closes around him. Dean’s mouth drops open, his head lolls, and his hand moves reflexively to Sam’s hair, resting. Sam’s head is bobbing up and down and Dean just  _ has _ to see. He rips his eyes open and looks down at--

Shit. 

Dean moans, hand tightening and his ears ringing and god, Sam is so hot. Those now-red lips are stretched obscenely around Dean’s cock and those hands are clutching Dean’s firm thighs and those eyes are squeezed shut in concentration. 

“Fuck,” Dean whispers. Sam looks up, through his long lashes and bangs and when he locks eyes with Dean, he whimpers again, sucking harder, moving faster, swallowing a few times. Dean pants, mouth wide open, and there isn’t enough oxygen going to his head because he can’t think. 

“Sam, Sam,” he chants. He’s going to--

“God, Sam!” 

He tugs on Sam’s hair, trying to pull him away, but Sam holds fast and sucks like a vacuum. 

“Sam!” Dean shouts, spilling down Sam’s throat. 

Sam swallows around Dean and Dean’s hips twitch. Sam pulls off, his lips cherry red and swollen. He coughs a few times, swallowing air. He takes deep breaths. 

Dean’s caught his breath now and reaches down to help Sam but he’s... 

“You finished?” he asks. 

Sam blushes, though it’s hard to see through the red of his face, but nods. “Yeah.” And god, his voice is  _ wrecked _ . 

Dean smiles and lays down, tugging Sam down to cuddle. He doesn’t normally initiate cuddling, not that he won’t do it if his partner wants to. But he feels like Sam is going to need some hugs after what they just did. It was pretty intense. 

Dean falls asleep sweaty and sticky and sated, his baby brother tight in his embrace. 

 

**

 

Sam can’t sleep. He can’t breathe. He can’t believe he just did that. It was too much, just like his dream, and what if Dean hates him and won’t talk to him ever again and Sam is going to die if Dean doesn’t love him. What if Dean hurts him? He already spanked him, punishing him for moving when he wasn’t supposed to. And then Sam couldn’t,  _ couldn’t _ , ask what he was going to. If he wasn’t allowed to move, why would he be allowed to stop? So he offered an alternative. 

Not that it was awful, in fact it was nice, during, but now he feels dirty. He feels like he should have given Dean more. Because god knows Dean deserves the world and more. And Sam wouldn’t do this one simple thing. He must be the worst brother ever. Dean must think Sam is awful. 

_ Of course you’re awful. Slutting yourself out to your brother, you freak. _

Sam is now sweating profusely from stress and being held so close. But he just can’t leave this hug so soon. Dean doesn’t show affection too much, hardly ever, and now he’s holding Sam so close, so, so close, and Sam can’t not snuggle back a bit, trying to burrow into Dean’s chest. He wants this moment. 

Maybe he can’t give Dean everything he needs and deserves, but he can do this. For now. Until the sun comes up. 

 

**

 

Dean wakes up confused. Who is he with and why did she stay the night? He moves a bit, running into a firm body, a hard chest. 

A man? 

Oh. 

_ Right _ . 

Sam. 

Dean opens his eyes fully, blinking away the pain from the light. There’s a moment where Dean wants to stay in bed and hold Sam forever, but then he realises Sam is awake. 

“Hey Sam, you okay?” 

Dean can see the just the top of his head move as he nods. 

“How long have you been up?” 

“Not long,” Sam tells him, but it sounds like a lie. Dean lets it go for now and sits up. Sam’s hands are suddenly on him, grabbing his arms. 

“Don’t leave?” Sam asks and damn, he can  _ hear _ the puppy-dog eyes. 

“I’m not leaving, baby boy. I’m just sittin’ up.” ‘ _ Baby boy’, what the hell _ ?

Dean clears his throat, turning to get a proper look at Sam. Oh, no. 

“Sam? Sammy, what happened, what’s wrong?” Dean is scared. Sam’s face is gaunt, red-rimmed eyes staring at Dean with an almost dead expression. He has bags under his eyes, his cheekbones look ready to pop through his smooth face. 

Wait. 

_ No, oh shit, oh shit, shit, shit! Fuck! _

He, they, last night... 

Sam was molested as a kid, by at least two people, people he was supposed to be able to trust and Dean just... 

“Oh, god, Sammy, I’m so sorry.” Dean puts his head in his hands, guilt washing over him. 

“Dean?” 

Dean looks up, and god,  _ god _ , Sammy looks so awful. He looks sick, he  _ is _ sick. But Sam’s face is also confused, worried, scared, a mix of emotions and Dean doesn’t know what to say to comfort him. 

“Dean, why would you be sorry? You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s my fault anyway,” he finishes with a mumble. 

“What?  _ Your _ fault? Sam, I basically raped you!” 

Sam flinches and Dean feels even worse. 

“Dean, I didn’t say no,” Sam tries to reason, but Dean is not going to hear it. 

“No Sam, no. What I did was wrong and awful and disgusting, you’re my little brother.” Dean stops, too overwhelmed by guilt to get his breath back. But then he notices Sam is making a face like he’s trying not to cry. His lips are pinched and he looks up to keep his tears from falling, but it doesn’t work and his tears spill. 

With a hitching voice, Sam scratches out, “I’m so-sorry I’m so disgut-ting. I didn’t, didn’t know I was going to hurt you. I-I-I know, that I’m gross and awful, and, and stupid, and, an--” 

“Sammy, no, no, that is not what I meant. Not at all.” Dean has no idea what to do in this kind of situation. He’s never had to figure something like this out before. Sam is full out crying now, sobs wracking his slim body. 

Dean is so awful. He hurt Sam. He hurt Sam in ways that will never be fixed. He’s just another monster in Sam’s book of people that hurt him. Dean knows that he doesn’t know everything, and that’s worse, because his imagination runs rampant and thinks up all the awful things it can. 

Dean’s eyes are closed, and he is so absorbed in self-hatred that he doesn’t notice Sam leave the bed until he hears the bathroom door snap shut and lock. 

Dean gets up, pulling on his boxers and pounding on the door. “Sam! Sam, I swear,  _ none _ of this is your fault. Sam, do you hear?  _ None _ .” 

Silence. 

Then, “You don’t know what I’ve done.” 

What? 

“Sammy, there is nothing you could have done to make me love you any less.” 

More silence. 

“Sam?” 

Thud. 

Dean yanks and pushes at the door before giving up and just kicking it in. 

“Sam, don’t you be fainting again, I swea--” 

Oh, god. 

He isn’t there. The window is open and Sam is  _ gone _ . He must have brought some clothes in with him when Dean wasn’t paying attention.  Dean grabs his phone, Sam’s number already punched in. 

 

** 

 

Sam cries more and more, until he’s all out of tears and all that’s left are tracks from where they were. He’s been walking for 30 minutes, and he has no idea where he is. He wasn’t going to leave, but Dean started trying to talk to him again and Sam just can’t see the disgust in Dean’s eyes anymore. 

Sam stops and looks around. 

There’s nothing familiar around, except that diner Dean had insisted they stop at when they first got here. But Sam can’t go in; he figures they have some sort of policy about shoes being required. 

He sees a payphone and the urge to call Dean rushes in. Before he knows it, he’s dialing, using coins he found in his pocket. 

_ “What?” _

“...” 

_ “Hello?” _

“Dean?” 

_ “Sam! Where the hell have you been, I have been trying to call you but you left your phone here and are you hurt? Where are you?” _

“I’m, I don’t know, I’m in town, I guess, by the diner we went to when we got here.” 

_ “Okay, Sam. Do. Not. Move. You understand? I’m on my way, I’ll be there in a few. Go sit in the diner.” _

“Okay.” 

  
  
  
  
  
**End of Chapter 4**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have been so great! I wanted to do something for you guys, but I wasn't sure what. If you have any prompts of things you want to see, I will try to write it. Don't be shy, if you want angst, fluff, smut, ask! And if someone asks for something, there will be NO kink-shaming. I will attempt every request I get, no matter what.   
> Love you guys!
> 
> ^^


	6. I Need Help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On time, what is this?? Anyway, enjoy this chapter. 
> 
> Song for this chapter: Follow You Home by Nickelback 
> 
> ^^

 

_Previously:_

“Hello?”

_“Dean?”_

“Sam! Where the hell have you been, I have been trying to call you but you left your phone here and are you hurt? Where are you?”

_“I’m, I don’t know, I’m in town, I guess, by the diner we went to when we got here.”_

“Okay, Sam. Do. Not. Move. You understand? I’m on my way, I’ll be there in a few. Go sit in the diner.”

_“Okay.”_

 

**

 

Sam sighs. The whole point in leaving without telling Dean was to get away. But Sam can never really go very long without Dean. He walks over to sit against the brick wall of the building he’s next to. Now he just has to wait. Dean will show up soon.

 

**

 

Dean is so frustrated. Why does Sam have to run away like this all the time? He took off to Stanford, and now this. Dean has no doubt that this is not the last Sam will do something like this. Dean huffs and rolls his eyes. But as he does this, he misses seeing the truck barrelling towards him.

Dean is jerked forward, but his airbags don’t open and he hits his head. He’s still awake, but he is out of it. He hears his door open and feels hands yank him out. He falls to the ground in a heap, moaning in pain, legs kicking to the sides and hitting walls. Must be an alley.

A hard kick in the ribs wakes him up real quick. “Stupid bitch,” a voice above him says. Dean gasps for breath, eyes wide with shock. He tries to get up but a foot collides with his shoulder and forces him back down.

“You think you can fuck my sister and get away with it? She’s fifteen!” Another kick.

“What, what the hell are you talking about?” Dean wheezes.

Fists grab his shit and haul him up, one arm poised for a strike. Dean looks in the guy’s eyes and still doesn’t recognise him. “Who are you?”

The guy pulls him close, too close, and rasps in his ear, “Your living hell.”

Dean coughs a laugh: like he hasn’t heard _that_ line before.

“You think this is funny? You think I’m joking? You have no idea what I can do.”

Dean musters up some strength to say, “Buddy, I’ve seen thing that’d make Chuck Norris shit his pants. You think I’m scared of you?”

Guy snarls and throws Dean to the ground. “Oh yeah, tough guy? Boo hoo, you’ve seen shit. Bull shit! That’s life!” _Another_ freaking kick.

“Stop kicking me, would ya?” Guy freezes. “What?” Dean asks. Guy looks scared now, backing away from Dean up to a wall, eyes staring behind Dean.

Shit. It’s a ghost, a nasty looking one, too. Its hair is grimy, long and black. It’s hard to tell if it’s a man or woman, but Dean doesn’t really care. Other things are concerning him right now.  

Like why the hell is a ghost outside?

Dean stumbles on his way upright, but when he turns around to face the threat, he straightens up real fast. It’s a dead end alley, and Guy has nowhere to run, and neither does Dean. Dean backs up until he is nearly touching Guy with his back, one arm going to his gun, the other out in front of him.

Unfortunately, guns aren’t going to do much good, not without iron rounds.

Thinking quickly, Dean spots an old metal rod. He dives for it and swings in the direction of the ghost as it charges forward. “Please be iron,” he whispers to it as it collides with the head of the ghost. The ghost lets out a noise as it vanishes, smoking away.

“What. The. Hell.” Dean hears behind him. He turn and oops, Guy is still there.

“Look, buddy, whatever I did or didn’t do to your sister, sorry. But I doubt it ‘cause I’ve only been in town for a couple days and trust me, I’d remember if I had sex with anyone, especially if. Wait, you said she’s fifteen? Ew, no.”

Guy is still wide eyed and frightened. _Like he’s seen a ghost_ Dean thinks.

“Uh,” Guy stares.

Dean gives a curt nod. “Okay then, great chat,” Dean smiles. As he turns to walk away, he swings around and clocks the guy on the side of his head.

Smirking, Dean heads back to his car, which is a little scratched, but nothing too bad. He pets the black metal. “It’s okay, Baby.”

 

**

 

Sam shivers against the wall. It’s dead winter, cold, and Sam is in the shadows with no shoes or socks, a threadbare t-shirt, and jeans with holes on the knees. He scrunches in closer to himself, trying to stay warm. People pass him by with looks of disgust on their face, probably thinking he’s homeless.

 _It’s not untrue_.

“Shut up,” he whispers to the frigid air, his now-frozen hair blowing in clumps in the wind.

Sam can’t keep his eyes open, and e slides them shut, just for a moment. Just a moment. Just...

 

**

 

Sam wakes with a jump, hands on his ankles, grabbing. Sam thrashes and shakes, attempting to get out from under whatever this thing is. His eyes have adjusted and he can see, it’s a man, with long black hair that clearly hasn’t been washed in some time.

The man’s eyes are angry, his dirty teeth peeking through chapped lips to snarl at Sam.

Sam freezes, and it feels like he’s actually freezing. It’s so _cold_ , beyond the chill of the ground, beyond the nipping, biting wind, and Sam can barely move now.

The man is so close, and Sam expects to smell rancid breath, but...

The man isn’t breathing. At all. Oh no. But a ghost wouldn’t be able to touch him, to grab him like this. It wouldn’t be able to slither its frozen hand under Sam’s shirt. What? No!

 _Like you don’t want it. Everyone knows you’re a slut for it_.

“No, no,” Sam tries to say, but his throat isn’t working. His limbs won’t move and he can’t breathe and this thing is going to touch him. He doesn’t want it hecan’tcan’tcan’t but he can’t _move_.

Suddenly the weight is gone and the cold concrete is a warmth to him as he falls and curls up to protect himself from any further harm.

“Sam, hay Sammy, it’s okay, I’m here.” The warm, safe voice of Dean travels over his cooled skin. Sam can feel blood rushing through him as Dean lifts him with his strong arms. He’s so strong.

Dean laughs, “Well, thanks Sammy, but it’s not like you even weigh anything.”

Oops. He said it out loud. He’s still got leftover shock, drunk on endorphins and adrenaline. He giggles.

“Deeean...” Sam slurs. He feels floaty, fuzzy, and overall dizzy.

“Yeah Sam, what?” Dean asks, hefting Sam into the passenger side.

“Wanna drive,” Sam begs. “Please?”

“No, Sam, I’m not gonna let you drive when you’re high on who knows what. That ghost must have drugged you,” Dean contemplates.

“Wha’, ghost? It was, he touched me, it wasn’t a ghost.” Sam doesn’t think a ghost has any need to drug him, he’s too helpless to fight anything anymore. “Dean,” Sam sobs.

Dean stops the car and gets out, opening Sam’s door and pulling the younger boy out. “Dean, listen.”

“Just a minute, Sammy, let me get you down on the bed.”

“Dean, I hafta tell you something,” Sam insists.

Sam is finally plopped down on the bed, Dean following to sit on the edge.

“Okay, what?” Dean asks.

“I’m, I can’t do it,” Sam starts. It’s painful and he doesn’t want to admit it, but, “I need help. I’m too weak and I can’t fight anymore,” Sam whines pitifully. Sam looks up into Dean’s eyes, pleading wordlessly for him to understand. 

 

**

 

Dean stares into those bright hazel eyes, those eyes that have cried on Dean’s shoulder, burrowed into his shirt, glared at dad. Dean has never been able to refuse those eyes, and now they’re asking for help.

“Sammy, whatever you need. Just tell me.” Dean won’t ever let his little brother down, never.

Sam starts slurring out, “Dean, I, I weighed myself the other day and... It didn’t make sense with how big I am for me t-to weigh 135. I thought the scale was broken. So I went to one in a gas station restroom and it said the, the same thing. I thought maybe you were right, but. I just, I don’t see it. I c-can’t see how I can be so big and still only weigh that much. I...” And again with those eyes, they look at Dean and Sam’s lost his steam and is looking like he wants to backtrack so Dean says the first thing that comes to head just to get Sam not to say anything else.

“You’re beautiful.”

Oops.

But it’s true and now Sam is confused and staring at Dean with his fucking _eyes_.

“Sam, I, uh,” Dean starts.

Sam stops him. “You don’ mean that,” he murmurs and it’s a question more than the statement that Sam had intended it to be.

Dean smiles a little smile. “Yeah, I do, actually.” Dean lifts a hand and runs it down Sam’s cheek. “Sam, I will help you through this. I will help you with anything you ask.” Something occurs to Dean. “Wait, 135 pounds?”

Sam nods. “Uh, yeah.”

Dean’s eye bug a little. “Sam, you’re like, 6’4”!”

Sam laughs self-deprecatingly. “I know. Oh...” Sam’s eyes clench tight and his hands shoot up to hold his head.

Dean stands. “Lemme get you some water and painkillers.”

Dean putters around the bathroom and kitchen, but he can’t find any low level painkillers. The only kind the Winchesters keep knock you right out for a long while. And though Sam could probably use the rest, they need to get some food in him as soon as he wakes up, even if Dean is reluctant to wait even that long.

Cup of tap water in hand, Dean enters the room, half expecting Sam to not be there again, or passed out. But his brother is sitting up, on the bed. “Here Sammy.”

Sam takes it with a shaking hand and downs it in two big gulps. He yawns and leans down on his side until he is flat. Dean smiles and takes Sam’s shoes from his gigantor feet, tossing them aside.

Taking the other bed, Dean toes off his own shoes, removing his shirt and jeans for bed. He’s left in his briefs and he slides under the covers, knowing he’ll wake with them around his upper thighs.

His eyes shut and he realises just how tired he is. He’s asleep before he remembers to turn out the light.

  
  
  
  


**End of Chapter 6**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments galore! I can't believe you guys are still reading xD
> 
> So obviously, Sam knows something is wrong, but what will he do? Stay turned... 
> 
> ^^


	7. Time For Lunch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, being on time! Woot woot! 
> 
> No warnings, I don't think. 
> 
> Song for this chapter: Faceless by Red 
> 
> ^^

 

_ Previously:  _

_ “I’m, I can’t do it,” Sam starts. It’s painful and he doesn’t want to admit it, but, “I need help. I’m too weak and I can’t fight anymore,” Sam whines pitifully. Sam looks up into Dean’s eyes, pleading wordlessly for him to understand. _

 

_ ** _

 

_ Dean stares into those bright hazel eyes, those eyes that have cried on Dean’s shoulder, burrowed into his shirt, glared at dad. Dean has never been able to refuse those eyes, and now they’re asking for help. _

_ “Sammy, whatever you need. Just tell me.” Dean won’t ever let his little brother down, never. _

_ Sam starts slurring out, “Dean, I, I weighed myself the other day and... It didn’t make sense with how big I am for me t-to weigh 135. I thought the scale was broken. So I went to one in a gas station restroom and it said the, the same thing. I thought maybe you were right, but. I just, I don’t see it. I c-can’t see how I can be so big and still only weigh that much. I...” And again with those eyes, they look at Dean and Sam’s lost his steam and is looking like he wants to backtrack so Dean says the first thing that comes to head just to get Sam not to say anything else. _

_ “You’re beautiful.” _

_ Oops. _

_ But it’s true and now Sam is confused and staring at Dean with his fucking  _ eyes _. _

_ “Sam, I, uh,” Dean starts. _

_ Sam stops him. “You don’ mean that,” he murmurs and it’s a question more than the statement that Sam had intended it to be. _

_ Dean smiles a little smile. “Yeah, I do, actually.” Dean lifts a hand and runs it down Sam’s cheek. “Sam, I will help you through this. I will help you with anything you ask.” Something occurs to Dean. “Wait, 135 pounds?” _

_ Sam nods. “Uh, yeah.” _

_ Dean’s eye bug a little. “Sam, you’re like, 6’4”!” _

_ Sam laughs self-deprecatingly. “I know. Oh...” Sam’s eyes clench tight and his hands shoot up to hold his head. _

_ Dean stands. “Lemme get you some water and painkillers.” _

_ Dean putters around the bathroom and kitchen, but he can’t find any low level painkillers. The only kind the Winchesters keep knock you right out for a long while. And though Sam could probably use the rest, they need to get some food in him as soon as he wakes up, even if Dean is reluctant to wait even that long. _

_ Cup of tap water in hand, Dean enters the room, half expecting Sam to not be there again, or passed out. But his brother is sitting up, on the bed. “Here Sammy.” _

_ Sam takes it with a shaking hand and downs it in two big gulps. He yawns and leans down on his side until he is flat. Dean smiles and takes Sam’s shoes from his gigantor feet, tossing them aside. _

_ Taking the other bed, Dean toes off his own shoes, removing his shirt and jeans for bed. He’s left in his briefs and he slides under the covers, knowing he’ll wake with them around his upper thighs. _

_ His eyes shut and he realises just how tired he is. He’s asleep before he remembers to turn out the light.  _

 

**

 

Sam stirs and his eyes flutter against the sudden brightness of the morning sun. His head swivels around to try and find the clock, but his ear collides into a hard, warm shoulder. 

_ Dean _ . 

A sense of comfort washes over Sam like it always does when he realises Dean is near. He snuggles a little closer, trying to keep warm and not caring what time it is anymore. Dean’s arm shifts around Sam and he can feel the muscles moving and rippling. Dean pulls him closer, his hot breath on the nape of Sam’s neck. Sam shivers. 

He wriggles around, hips squirming and shoulders twisting, until he is facing Dean. Rather, his chest. Sam is taller, but he still curls up small and feels better when he’s the little spoon. With Dean only. In life he’d rather be strong, powerful, refusing to be smaller than his partner. 

_ Not that it’s that hard _ . 

He actually comforts in the voice. He’s alone without her, empty. Sam scoots even closer, and that seems to be what Dean needed to rouse. 

“S’mmy? How long you been up?” he asks sleepily. 

Sam looks into Dean’s half-lidded eyes. “I’m not sure. Not long.” 

Dean breathes in heavily, letting it out slow as he turns to face the clock. 

“It’s about half past 6. You sleepin’ in Sammy?” Dean jokes, referring to the fact that Sam is always up at at ‘em by no later than 6 each morning. He goes out on his runs, doing his work out and then he even has time for a shower before 9 when Dean gets up and drags himself to the bathroom for him morning routine of piss, bathe, and brush. Dean might think Sam doesn’t know, but Sam has heard Dean jerking off as part of this ritual as well. 

Sam may or may not jerk off when he himself is in the shower. 

He does, but definitely thinking about, like, girls and stuff. 

Okay, so maybe he sometimes thinks about Dean, but it’s really not his fault. Dean is perfect in every way, other than the fact that he seems to have no idea how great and lovely he is. His rugged looks are constantly contrasted with his full, pink lips, his bright eyes, his round ass, the way he moves at times, so graceful. 

Sam is snapped back to reality at Dean’s chuckle. “You happy to see me, Sam?” Dean’s arm comes uncurled from around Sam’s torso and instead wraps around his hips, knuckles brushing over Sam’s half hard dick.  

Sam flushes bright red, his ears hot, and turns around once again so Dean is still spooning him, but no longer touching his--

“Dean!” 

Dean’s rough hand is pulling back on his hip, his other coming out from nowhere and gripping his hair tightly, but not painfully. 

Dean drops his head and Sam feels those lips kissing, nibbling, around his jaw, peppering kisses along his neck and Sam groans softly. 

Dean moves his arm so that his hand is tucked up under Sam’s stomach and pulling him so, so close to Dean’s hot, hard body. 

“Sam, you feel good. You feel my arms around you? They wrap all the way, and then some, don’t they?” Dean asks with whispers crawling into Sam’s ears as shivers make their way through his body. 

Sam nods helplessly, knowing his fat is shrinking when in Dean’s presence. 

“Shut up, Sam.” 

Sam starts. “What? I didn’t even--” 

“Hush. You were thinking it. I know what you think about your body Sam, but it just isn’t true. If this is the only way to get it through your thick skull, I’ll do it for as long as it takes. Maybe eventually all you’ll need is a look or something, to help you realise how perfect you are.” Dean pauses. 

“Look, Sam. I,” he sighs frustratedly, pulling Sam up to sit and face Dean. They sit in silence for a moment, looking to an outside observer like two boys in a staring competition. 

“Sam, you are super tall, and your shoulders alone, just bone, are wide. Your frame, Sam, it can’t handle all this weight loss. You’ll end up weighing more than me, but that doesn’t mean you’re fat. Your bones alone must be 60% of your current weight. 

“Sam, you’re in no way fat, at all. But you have this litheness, you could pack some muscle, keep your workout, eat healthy, but you’d be  _ eating _ . Sam, you... guh, you, you scare me, okay? When I see you like this, like I can basically see through you, like wind is gonna take you away, it makes me so, just, I don’t wanna lose you,” Dean’s voice breaks. “I can’t lose you, Sammy, don’t you get it?” He looks up into Sam’s eyes, and Sam can see it, the fear, the anger, the confusion. Sam’s brows furrow, and he wants to comfort Dean. 

“Dean, I...” He has no idea what to say. “I’ll try.” That’s all he can come up with. 

 

Dean pulls him in close. He hugs Sam in so tight, and Sam knows it will be hard to get through this, but he’ll do it. 

For Dean. 

Sam brings his own arms up to wrap around Dean and Dean was right about Sam’s frame; Sam’s arm wrap right around Dean’s shoulder and touch the opposite elbow. 

Sam squeezes tighter and it’s suddenly not too bad. 

 

**

 

Dean wants to tear down the world and build it back up around Sam. He wants to hold Sam tight until his arms are sore. He wants Sam to feel good, feel worthy of Dean’s love. Dean wants Sam to feel like the perfect boy Dean sees. Dean’s heart aches; his chest literally hurts, clenching and trying to eat him up from the inside. 

He runs his fingers through Sam’s hair, soft and precious, like Sam. Dean takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly so as not to shake little Sammy resting on his chest. Sam’s breaths have slowed to little puffs and Dean knows he must be asleep. Well, Dean would be too, if he had all this... chaos roaming around in him and it had just clawed its way out. 

Dean doesn’t know how to do this, doesn’t know how to help someone else from the edge when that’s where he lives. He knows what he’s done, things that would make innocent Sam gasp and look at Dean in disgust. 

And apparently, according to Sam, his little brother had done some things that he’s too ashamed to tell Dean. What could he have done? It gnaws at Dean’s brain and he can’t stop thinking about it. 

It absorbs his thoughts so much that he’s still awake when Sam’s moving around, waking up. Dean furrows his brow and check the time. 

Holy shit! Dean’s been staring at the ceiling for 5 hours, trying to figure out what horrible thing Sam thinks he did. It’s a little after lunch time and Dean stomach rumbles loudly at the thought. 

Dean shakes his arm so it jostles Sam. “Hey, let’s get up.” 

Sam nods sleepily but doesn’t move. 

“C’mon, Sam.” 

Sam makes a noise in his throat and throws his legs out in an attempt to get off the bed. His shoulders were still firmly planted to the bed, his whole top half still asleep. Dean’s mouth crooked into a smile. 

Dean gets up and leaves the warmth of Sam and sleep. He starts puttering about the kitchen, looking through the fridge, freezer, pantry and finding nothing. Time to lower standards and repeat. His head is in the freezer when Sam’s voice is suddenly behind him. 

“Can we go out to eat?” 

Dean turns, a little shocked at the request. His brows scrunch but he concedes. “Sure, Sammy. Wanna hit a bar?” 

Sam nods, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes. 

Dean gives a curt nod back and they head out to the bar. 

 

**

 

It watches. Watches the boys get into their car, hears it start and take off down the street. It watches the tall one, the one with no body. It watches the short one, the one who takes care. It watches until there is nothing left in its view and it flies, it roams, it appears in the parking lot. The black car pulls up and it’s hungry. The boys are pretty. Especially their pain. Tall can’t eat and short can’t help and it is delicious. They get out of their car, so unsuspecting. It watches, watches, watches, and they get to the door and it pulls them away. 

Time for lunch. 

  
  
  
  
  


**End of Chapter 7**

 


	8. Who is in Your Head?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Creepy guy ahead, beware! Also, nothing bad happens yet and I WILL warn for it when the time comes. 
> 
> Song for this Chapter: Confession by Red

 

_ Previously:  _

_ It watches. Watches the boys get into their car, hears it start and take off down the street. It watches the tall one, the one with no body. It watches the short one, the one who takes care. It watches until there is nothing left in its view and it flies, it roams, it appears in the parking lot. The black car pulls up and it’s hungry. The boys are pretty. Especially their pain. Tall can’t eat and short can’t help and it is delicious. They get out of their car, so unsuspecting. It watches, watches, watches, and they get to the door and it pulls them away.  _

_ Time for lunch.  _

**

 

Dean’s eyes open as he hears a groan. He jerks his body, but he gets no further than the chair he’s restrained to. His wrists are tied to the arms and his feet to the legs. His knees are also tied and pulled apart, leaving things uncomfortably breezy.

He lifts his head to investigate the sound.

Sam!

Sam.

Damnit!

He can’t talk. His mouth is moving, he can tell, but his throat doesn’t vibrate and the only thing he can hear is Sam’s laboured breaths.

Sam, look! he mouths. Look at me!

Sam is facing Dean, similarly restrained, but he’s not in a simple chair. It’s a sort of contraption, black, dangerous looking and it reminds him a little bit of BDSM. Sam is without shoes and his outer layer shirt, but thankfully he is dressed otherwise. His floppy hair covers the blindfold over his eyes and reaches the tip of his nose.

A loud noise from behind Dean startles the brothers and Sam looks up sharply, wincing as he moves too fast. A cold, frozen hand lands on Dean’s shoulder, causing him to jump. Long fingernails scrape along his collarbone, sending an unpleasant shudder down his spine.

What do you want? Dean tries to shout.

The frozen man’s hand shakes with his quiet, raspy laugh. “What I want from you, nothing. From him?” One finger raises to point at Sam. “Everything. Perhaps I’ll take you, too.”

No! You touch him, I’ll kill you, you friggin’ bastard!

Another icy laugh.

“Of course, pretty one.” The hand turns to stroke along his cheek and Dean leans away as much as he can.

How can you hear me? I can’t hear me and neither can--

“I muted you, I can hear you and I can choose not to hear you. I didn’t want to hear your whines while I’m... desecrating your friend.”

No! Don’t you dare touch him!

But the man steps forward, back to Dean, but Dean can still tell. It’s the ghost. Or the not-ghost, with the long black hair that was previously tangled and nasty, is now brushed and pulled back into a semi-short ponytail.

You freak, don’t touch him.

But the man--creature--pays him no mind, reaching out and holding Sam’s chin and gripping it tight as he circles around behind Sam to face Dean.

Sam whimpers and Dean wishes he could comfort him.

Please. Dean begs.

The creature smiles, and doesn’t move his mouth as he responds. “How cute.”

But!

“Did you really think I’d let him hear me if he can’t hear you? Silly boy, at least you’re pretty.”

Dean glares. 

“Besides,” he lets go of Sam, “it’s fun to keep his guessing.” He stands at the far side of the room, pushing something over and making a loud bang. Sam jerks around, wondering what’s happening, but he can’t see and he can’t move. The creature flashes over to stand by Dean and smacks him.

Ow!

The creature moves about the room, creating noise and confusion and Sam looks ready to scream, his jaw tight and his fingers gripping the handles of his stand so hard his knuckles are white.

Then it all stops, sudden and swiftly. The silence is as loud as the crashing and Sam is tensed, straining to hear anything.

“Hello.”

Sam flinches and Dean guesses the creature made his voice known.

“W-who are you? What do you want?” Sam asks, and to his credit, his voice doesn’t shake too much.

He’s only met with silence.

“Hello?” he calls out.

More silence and yet Dean is screaming in his head.

Sam shuffles in his seat, looking like he’s trying to get comfortable. Dean knows that there’s no way Sam will get comfy, not in that torture device.

“You’re quite right, you know.”

What? What are you talking about?

“Oh, you thought I was reading the thoughts you directed? No, I’m reading everything. Would like to know what’s going through Sam’s--it is Sam, yes?--head?”

Dean glares and he glares hard because he’s helpless to do anything else.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice calls out softly. Dean shakes as much as he can to be loud, but he’s so tightly held that he has no leverage.

“Dean, it-it feels like you’re there, but... If you are, and if you can hear me, I hope you’re okay.”

He sounds so hopeful. Dean wishes he could let Sam just  _ know _ .

I’m here, Sammy, I’m here.

“Little  _ Sammy _ can’t  _ hear  _ you, stupid boy.” The man’s hands reaches towards Sam and Dean shouts.

No! Don’t you touch him!

An evil smile and quick movement cause Sam to whimper, the cold hand suddenly on his chest and dragging over his shirt. He shudders so violently that Dean wonders if it hurt.

“N-no, don’t touch me. Get off!” Sam moves in his place, trying to shake the hand off. It doesn’t move and it continues to trail down.

Dean is so helpless, so unable and it makes him want to punch someone. Preferably this bastard who keeps touching Sam like that. Like, a... lover, or partner. Dean gets a little sick inside as he realises his own hands were right there not so long ago.

The creature pauses, lifting his hand away and looking thoughtful.

“You love him, yes?”

Dean just glares; if this bastard can read minds he’d know that Dean would die for Sam in a heartbeat.

“You wouldn’t love him if you knew the thoughts in his head right now. Am I to assume you are the Dean he thinks about?” The creature grins. “He really does love--” He pauses and Dean stares in waiting.

The creature’s head faces directly at Dean’s red flushed face as he thinks to Dean. “His big brother.”

Dean’s eyes shut in shame.

“Well I’ve been on this earth long enough to know that  _ that _ might just put you on the ‘naughty list’. Corrupting your little brother, what  _ were  _ you thinking?”

Shut the hell up. You don’t know me or him!

“I know enough.”

Then the creature is on Sam, touching and dragging its hands all over Sam’s shivering body.

“S-stop!” he shouts, sounding scared.

“Why don’t you tell me...” a hand runs up his thigh. “What you’ve done?”

Sam’s brow scrunches up.

 

**

 

“What are you talking about?” Sam asks, fearing what this thing thinks it knows.

“I can see in your head, Sam. I can see, that moment from childhood, one you just can’t tell anyone.”

_ He can’t know, he can’t! _

_ Of course he’ll know, you’ve been stupid enough to practically broadcast it to anyone. Idiot. _

Suddenly the blindfold is removed and Sam squints in the dim light, adjusting.

The creature, it looks like a man, stands over Sam, looking confused.

“Who is in your head?” he asks.

“Dean!”

Sam, Dean mouths.

“You can’t talk?”

Dean shakes his head, glaring at the man.

The man is suddenly in his field of view, blocking everything else out. Ignoring this, Sam looks and tests his restraints. They felt different, and now he can see why.

It’s black and leathery, smooth and restricting. His arms are pulled to the sides, slightly out to push his chest forward. His legs are spread wide, tied at the knees and ankles, and are attached to something that looks like it can move. Like it could rearrange him to fit his captor’s... needs. He shudders.

“Sam, I asked you a question.” The man doesn’t move his mouth.

Sam’s face must express his confusion because the man stands up, opens his mouth, and explains, “I can communicate with people through their minds. I can read your thoughts and feelings, as well as your brother’s, and I can turn off what I can hear from whom. Are we done? Good.

“Now, Sam. Tell me. Who is in your head with you?”

The man spoke aloud, and Sam can’t meet Dean’s confused gaze. He can’t see the look of pity in Dean’s bottle-green eyes.

“Leave me alone,” he mumbles to the ground. A cold hand grips his chin and forces his head up at an uncomfortably sharp angle.

“No. Tell. Me. Who is in your head with you?”

Sam squints at the man. “You don’t know? Thought you knew my mind.”

_ It’s not that hard to navigate with how empty it is. _

“That, her, who is that?”

Sam doesn’t look as he answers, “She’s my... she was, my girlfriend.”

Sam glances at Dean for a half second, but even that’s long enough to the look of confusion clear and anger take its place.

“Dean...”

“Ah, what, I can,” Dean suddenly speaks, letting out a huff of air as he is surprised with his ability to talk. “Sam, seriously, Jess is  _ in your head? _ ”

Sam nods. 

“Well, how interesting is this?” The man asks. “Sam, who else is crawling about your brain?”

Being brave, or stupid, Sam tells him, and Dean. “Jessica, my girlfriend, John, my dad, and sometimes... Dean. My brother.” Sam looks right at Dean for this last bit, needing to see what reaction this gets.

_ Freak, you have people that hate you in your head? Not that you have anyone that likes you. _

The man tilts his head, black hair slipping from the shoulder where it was resting on to his back. “Enough of this,” he demands suddenly. “Time to get on with the fun part.” He grins evilly and lifts a hand. The sounds of gears are loud in Sam’s ear as he starts moving, limbs attached to various pieces of the machine that’s pulling him around like a rag doll.

“Sam!” Dean shouts, but Sam barely hears it as blood rushes to his head and putting black spots in his vision. After much moving, Sam rests on the contraption on his back, head hanging over the back looking right at Dean.

His legs are brought up into the air and spread, farther than he really is able, and the burn hurts.

Dean’s mouth is moving but Sam can’t hear him. Dean glares at the man, and Sam supposes he muted Dean again.

The man walks around to face Sam, but all Sam can see is the V of the man’s legs. He lets out an involuntary whimper. “No, don’t.”

“But I can feel your fear of this, it’s nearly tangible and certainly strong enough to feed me.”

Hands grip his face on both side and manipulate it until his mouth is open and his eyes are clenched shut in fear and terror.

“No, ‘oh, ‘o, ‘on’t.” He tries to protest.  

“Hush, Sam. It’ll be over soon.” A laugh. “I lied, this will last until you and your brother are drained dry and left out to rot. I’ll wring the truths from you that neither of you want the other to know. I’ll  _ ruin _ you.”

The muscles in Sam’s neck relax as he surrenders to the inevitable.

“That’s better,” he coos, petting a hand down the column of his throat. “Now, hold still.”

  
  
  
  


**End of Chapter 8**

  
  



	9. I'm Not Mad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duuuunnnnn.... 
> 
> CHECK WARNINGS!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! Flashback time, and you know what that means! That's right! Angst and angst and angst. WARNING: This chapter contains a graphic description of sexual acts between a minor and an adult. If this bothers you, please tread carefully. It does have plot, so you can't skip it, but I'll summarise what happened in the next chapter. 
> 
> Song for this Chapter: Here We Are by Breaking Benjamin 
> 
> Onto the story! 
> 
> ^^

 

_ Previously:  _

_ “Sam!” Dean shouts, but Sam barely hears it as blood rushes to his head and putting black spots in his vision. After much moving, Sam rests on the contraption on his back, head hanging over the back looking right at Dean. _

_ His legs are brought up into the air and spread, farther than he really is able, and the burn hurts. _

_ Dean’s mouth is moving but Sam can’t hear him. Dean glares at the man, and Sam supposes he muted Dean again. _

_ The man walks around to face Sam, but all Sam can see is the V of the man’s legs. He lets out an involuntary whimper. “No, don’t.” _

_ “But I can feel your fear of this, it’s nearly tangible and certainly strong enough to feed me.” _

_ Hands grip his face on both side and manipulate it until his mouth is open and his eyes are clenched shut in fear and terror. _

_ “No, ‘oh, ‘o, ‘on’t.” He tries to protest.   _

_ “Hush, Sam. It’ll be over soon.” A laugh. “I lied, this will last until you and your brother are drained dry and left out to rot. I’ll wring the truths from you that neither of you want the other to know. I’ll  _ ruin  _ you.” _

_ The muscles in Sam’s neck relax as he surrenders to the inevitable. _

_ “That’s better,” he coos, petting a hand down the column of his throat. “Now, hold still.”  _

  
  


**

 

No, no, this can’t be happening, not again, no. Sam panics inside, trying not to because he knows this man is just feeding--literally--off of his pain and fear. But he is terrified and he can’t help it.

The man pulls on Sam’s bottom lip with his thumb, holding it open and gripping his jaw with the rest of his long fingered hand.

His mouth is wrenched open and Sam knows better than to bite down or lock his jaw. He shuts his eyes, waiting. Nothing happens for a few moments, but then the man’s mouth is almost inside Sam’s open lips. He starts sucking in, and Sam can feel the overwhelming emotions that memories bring.

Sam has an idea, something crazy, but maybe it will work. He summons some of his worst memories, awful and horrible ones, and pushes the through his body, feeling his limbs start to shake in fear. The man sucks harder, more hungry and just when Sam thinks his plan didn’t work, the man pulls off with something akin to a groan of pleasure.

“You,” the man begins, “are a very clever boy.”

Sam works his jaw, small pops crackling through his ears as it resets.

“Very clever, indeed. But I’m still not done. I’ll be hungry again shortly and I’ll want your fear ripe. So I best get to working it up, hm?”

The man turns to Dean. “What do you think, Dean? Or do you want to do the honours? I know you would, but Sam would like it, and, well. I can’t have that.” He smiles cruelly.

“You bastard,” Dean replies. “Don’t you dare touch him.”

“But it gets him so scared, and you, too. I want to destroy you both, not just Sam. It just. Starts with him.” He turns to Sam, who flinches as much as his position allows.

“Now, while I’m resting, seems like a good place to spill all your secrets, huh, Sam?”

Sam panics again, sweating a bit. He shakes his head no.

“Hm... Too bad. Dean, would you like to be told or shown? I can do either.”

“You can show his thoughts to me?” Dean asks warily.

“Thoughts, memories, desires, anything. I can show you and him both what anyone is thinking. And the one thing Sam is scared of more than anything is letting you down”

Suddenly the room is gone and they’re in... oh no.

Sam knows this place, what memory this must be and  _ cannot _ see it.

“This is just an example, of course. This is only the start of what he’s been hiding.

Sam shakes his head and whimpers, unable to muster up the energy to talk.

Sam can’t look away, and he watches his memory play out for an audience.

 

**

 

Sam walks slowly into the classroom, motivational posters hanging and desks orderly. It’s one of the nicer schools they’ve been to, but it’s still not... normal. Things are odd and Sam just wants to be normal. When Mr. Cooper had said he had lots of students come to see him after school to bring their grades up, Sam went along just to be part of the crowd. Plus, he had unusually low grades and he really did want to do well in school.

Now Sam isn’t so sure, a feeling of dread creeping down his spine.

“Samuel,” a voice calls from behind. Sam spins around.

“Oh, uh, hi Mr. Cooper.,” Sam stutters. Mr. Cooper is handsome and tall, and Sam gets just a tiny bit nervous around him. A warm hand lands on his small shoulder, startling Sam.

Mr. Cooper always touches people; a shoulder clap, a pat on the back, even a hug, if something great happens. It doesn’t bother Sam so much anymore, not when he sees his teacher touching everyone, including colleagues.

This time, though, the hand lingers and doesn’t move. Well, it moves, but only to push Sam in the direction of the blackboard, behind the teacher’s desk. The hand releases him, and Sam looks up at the dark haired man with earnest eyes.

“So, um, how do I get my grade up?” he asks, wanting to get started so he can leave and get back so he can watch TV with Dean.

“Well,” the tall man begin, leaning a hip against the heavy duty desk, “we can start, with something... smaller.”

He sits in his chair and swivels it to face Sam, who is confused. “Small?”

Mr. Cooper leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, and whispers. “Yes.” That hand reaches out again and cups Sam’s cheek. He feels his head being pulled closer and doesn’t know what to think until suddenly...

Oh.

Mr. Cooper is  _ kissing _ him. On the  _ lips _ .

Sam pulls away. “I’m not a girl,” he declares, refusing to be treated like one.

“Of course you aren’t, Sam. You are a boy. A very beautiful boy,” he adds, running his fingers through Sam’s floppy hair.

Sam shakes his head. “‘M not beautiful.”

Eyebrows raise and lips soften. “You are, Samuel,” he insists. “Very, very, beautiful.” Between each word are small kisses to different parts to Sam’s face.

Sam’s forehead scrunches up. “How is this gonna help my grades?” he demands. He doesn’t want to do this anymore, but he got a D on the last test, and he needs that grade up for the end of the semester.

Mr. Cooper sits back in his chair and spreads his legs. He pats his thighs with both hands. “Come up, Sam.”

Sam’s still small enough to fit in Dean’s lap with no problem, but he protests, “I’m not a little kid, I can’t get in your lap.”

A chuckle. “Of course you can. Please?”

Sam narrows his eyes in thought.

“It’ll help my grade?” he asks.

Mr. Cooper smiles and nods. “Yes, it will.”

Sam makes up his mind and climbs up into his teacher’s lap. His thighs are firm and big enough to hold Sam steady. It almost feels like sitting in a chair, aside from the uneven surface.

Mr. Cooper’s hands land on Sam’s hips and twist him and turn him until he is facing the older man, small hands against a solid stomach. Sam blushes; his teacher has abs and Dean’s the only person Sam’s ever seen with them. He’s sure other people have them, but Dean flaunts his body and Mr. Cooper wears form-fitting button downs and tight jeans.  _ Jeans. _

“Um...” Sam stutters, unable to think.

A large hand runs down his face. “Shh, just be still.” His hand lowers to his jeans, unbuckling the brown leather belt and popping open the button.

Sam’s eyes grow wide, colour rising to his cheeks. “Um, I don’t think...”

“Shh...”

Sam’s shuts up, only because Mr. Cooper seems to just want his jeans open, not off. He grips Sam’s hips again, harder this time, and pulls and drags them across his lap.

Something feels really good and Sam isn’t sure what. Something makes him slack-jawed and wide-eyed. His leg muscles tense up, trembling as Mr. Cooper brings his butt down hard on the teacher’s...

_ Oh. _

This is how he gets his grades up. He should’ve know; Dean left a porn tab open one time and there was a girl who was very eager to get her grades up.

Now that Sam has caught on, he kind of wants to participate more. Face flushing bright red, he snaps his hips down as hard as he can--which isn’t very--and Mr. Cooper’s grip squeezes Sam’s hipbone hard. He feels like there might be bruises tomorrow and the thought makes him hot.

The only person who has ever left bruises on him has been Dean, during training, and Sam had poked those for days after just to feel Dean again. This man is so much bigger and stronger than Dean and could hurt Sam so much more. It’s a heady feeling and Sam doesn’t realise he’s moaned until his teacher groans out, “Yes, you’re so good, such sweet noises for me.”

A whimper escapes his throat and Sam would blush in embarrassment if he could get anymore red.

The girl in the video had put her mouth on the ‘teacher’, but Sam wasn’t sure he wanted to do that. The thought was practically read from his mind as Mr. Cooper suggests, “Come one, get down, on your knees, there’s a good boy, there you go.”

Sam sits back on his heels.

“Um, I’ve never...” Sam trails off.

“Sweet boy, I haven’t asked you to do anything.” Mr. Cooper raises an eyebrow and smirks. “Of course, you  _ can  _ if you would like to.”

Sam has to make a decision and he has to do it fast. Diving in head first and thinking about consequences later is usually Dean’s style, but Sam decides to go with it anyway.

He reaches up to the waistband of the grey boxers and hooks his small fingers in it. He tugs down and Mr. Cooper’s hips twitch. His dick springs out and Sam’s eyes bugs out.

He knows he must look like an idiot just staring at it like he’s never seen one before. Eventually he is able to drag his focus up to his teacher’s face.

“Um...”

“It’s okay.” Mr. Cooper runs a hand through Sam’s soft hair. “Just taste it. Go on,” he encourages.

What? He wants Sam to  _ taste _ that? That’s where pee comes out, it’s not supposed to be tasted.

“Sam, grown-ups do this all the time.”

And Sam again remembers the porn he found where the girl did taste it and the made her ‘teacher’ very happy.

So Sam sticks out his little pink tongue and touches it to the squishy red bulb. It doesn’t really taste like much at first, like the very first lick to a dry lollipop, but as he keeps licking, it get salty and hot. A little drop of something begins to appear at the very tip, so Sam licks that, too.

“Oh, yes, you’re a natural,” Mr Cooper sighs.

Sam’s brows furrow as he sets to his task of tasting. It’s not good, it’s funny smelling and Mr. Cooper makes weird noises. It’s almost sour, but bitter and salty and even almost sweet, and Sam is confused. It’s not good, but... it isn’t bad.

“That’s it, darling. Why don’t you put it in your mouth?”

Sam stares he thinks how big it is. There’s no way he can fit it in his mouth, it’s too small for something that big. Sam tells this to Mr. Cooper, who groans and now Sam is even more confused. Why does he want to hear things like that? But maybe Sam can use that.

“I, I’m too small,” he tries, smiling when his teacher rolls his hips. Sam reaches a hand out to wrap around the shaft--it is really big--and looks into Mr. Cooper’s eyes. “I can’t do  _ that _ , but I can do this, if I use both hands.” To prove his point., Sam grips with both small hands and pulls up and down, watching more stuff come out of the pee-hole.

Sam pokes a small finger in it and Mr. Cooper’s voice breaks as his body shudders. Sam uses the puppy-dog face he knows for a fact work on Dean, and stares with big watery eyes at the older man. “Will I still get a good grade?” he asks softly.

Mr. Cooper yells, or shouts, making an odd noise Sam doesn’t think he’s ever heard before. Lots of stuff comes out of the tip now, hitting Sam’s fingers, Mr. Cooper’s shirt, Sam’s forearms. Sam flinches back as this happens, a little confused but understanding after a moment. Dean does the same thing.

Sam wipes his hands off on Mr. Cooper’s jeans while the man has his eyes closed. Sam stands on shaky legs, adrenaline thumping through his veins and blood pumping loudly through his ears.

Mr. Cooper sighs happily. “Good boy, Samuel.”

 

**

 

Silence rings around the room as Dean stares, horrified, at Sam.

“S-sam?” he calls quietly. “Sammy?”

Sam stares blankly at the ceiling from his precarious position.

“Well,” the creature says, “that was educational, to say the least.”

Dean can’t even summon up words for this monster. He takes a shaky breath. “Sam, hey. Hey you know I’m not mad at you, right?”

The contraption Sam is on moves around once more and turns Sam upright. Sam stares at Dean with big hazel eyes and Dean can’t help but think of that moment.

_ “Will I still get a good grade?” _

Dean shivers in... what, disgust? Arousal? No.

Dean shakes his head. “Sammy, I am not mad, you hear me?”

Sam nods slowly but doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “I...” he starts. “Um.”

A hand claps down onto Sam’s shoulder, making him flinch.

A loud noise sounds from outside, crashing and banging and... Sirens?

Shit, the police is here.

“Police!”

“Police!”

“Clear!”

“Clear here!”

Shouts ring out around them and Dean realises that the creature is gone and Sam’s contraption is just a chair like Dean’s.

His hands are being undone and Dean leaps for Sam. His legs are weak, but he makes it to his brother, grabbing his face and pulling it to his shoulder. “It’s okay Sammy, you’re okay.” Dean tries to comfort Sam in a quiet, desperate voice while his brother lets out shattered breaths that turn into sobs.

“De-ean, I... I’m so-ssor--”

“No Sam, shh, just shh. You’re fine, you’re good, come ‘ere, let hold you. I’m not mad at you, never Sam.” Sam’s sobs get quieter, but his shoulders still jump with every push of air and misery.

Everything else is a blur as they get out and get put in an ambulance. Dean passes out holding Sam’s hand, a last thought on his mind:

What is going on?

  
  
  
  
  
  
**End of Chapter 9**

 

 


	10. I'm So Proud of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH! I'm soooooo late, sorry! Forgive me, please. I've been hella busy like crazy trying to graduate. Anyway, here's a chapter! 
> 
> Song for this Chapter: Home by Staind
> 
> (Btw, I don't know if you guys are listening to the songs, but I highly recommend it, they pair with each chapter, so maybe give it a listen before you read.) 
> 
> ^^

 

_Previously:_

_Dean shakes his head. “Sammy, I am not mad, you hear me?”_

_Sam nods slowly but doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “I...” he starts. “Um.”_

_A hand claps down onto Sam’s shoulder, making him flinch._

_A loud noise sounds from outside, crashing and banging and... Sirens?_

_Shit, the police is here._

_“Police!”_

_“Police!”_

_“Clear!”_

_“Clear here!”_

_Shouts ring out around them and Dean realises that the creature is gone and Sam’s contraption is just a chair like Dean’s._

_His hands are being undone and Dean leaps for Sam. His legs are weak, but he makes it to his brother, grabbing his face and pulling it to his shoulder. “It’s okay Sammy, you’re okay.” Dean tries to comfort Sam in a quiet, desperate voice while his brother lets out shattered breaths that turn into sobs._

_“De-ean, I... I’m so-ssor--”_

_“No Sam, shh, just shh. You’re fine, you’re good, come ‘ere, let hold you. I’m not mad at you, never Sam.” Sam’s sobs get quieter, but his shoulders still jump with every push of air and misery._

_Everything else is a blur as they get out and get put in an ambulance. Dean passes out holding Sam’s hand, a last thought on his mind:_

_What is going on?_

 

**

 

Dean wakes up staring at a dirty ceiling. There’s a faint yellow light to his right, illuminating the generic wallpaper opposite him. The motel, then. But how? Had it all been a dream? A horrible, awful dream that’s finally over and Sammy is safe?

“Hgnn...” Sam is next to him, good.

“‘am?” he rasps with a dry throat and a thick tongue.

“Dean?” he hears, along with the creaking of a bed and a groan.

Dean pulls himself upright, the room moving with him. “Shit,” he whispers, clenching his eyes shut to stop the spinning. Eventually it stops and Dean can open his eyes to the sight of Sam on the side of the bed, holding his head, forehead touching his knees.

“Sammy?” Dean prods. “You okay?”

What stupid goddamn question.

“I meant--”

“I’m fine, Dean.”

Dean stares for a moment. “Bullshit.”

Sam huffs.

“Dean, really. I’m... I’m no worse off than I already was. Those things have haunted me forever, and I know how to deal.”

“I know, but Sam, you don’t have to. You don’t have to do everything on your own anymore. I’m here, I want to help you, I want to keep you safe, Sam, you’re my brother.”

“You say that like that’s a cure-all, Dean, but it’s not!” Sam shouts.

Dean’s eyes widen at Sam’s uncharacteristic outburst. He raises an eyebrow. “Fine, huh?" 

Sam glares at him. “Yes, I’m--” Suddenly his face goes pale and he sprints off the bed to the bathroom. He makes a pathetic effort at closing the door, a tap that doesn’t move it. The sound of retching can be heard echoing through the tiled room.

Dean winces. Sam really doesn’t have anything to throw up, so there’s probably lots of burning acid and dry heaving and Dean is a little sick now, too. He manages to drag his ass off the bed to trudge over to the bathroom. He steps in and feels a pang in his chest. Reaching out a rough hand, Dean pulls Sam’s hair back off his sweaty forehead as his brother convulses with strong heaves. Sam has tears running down his face.

“Dean, I...”

Dean waits for the rest, but Sam doesn’t finish.

“It’s okay, Sammy.” He caresses the soft hair. “It’s okay.” 

 

**

 

It isn’t until a few hours later when Sam is tucked into bed all snug that Dean decides Sam needs to eat.

He’s prepared a wonderful meal of a water bottle and slightly overcooked ramen noodles. A plastic fork sits inside the foam cup.

Dean carries it in to Sam with hands full of a fistful of napkins and the water in one hand and the noodles in the other. Sam raises a brow.

“Ramen noodles?” he asks with a slight smile.

“Hey, it’s breakfast in bed, don’t complain,” Dean defends.

“It’s like, six PM,” Sam counters.

“Dinner in bed, then, whatever, just take it.”

Sam reaches his arms out to grasp the noodle cup in both hands. Dean sees this and sets the water bottle on the bedside table and lays a napkin across Sam’s blanket covered thigh.

Sam stares at the cup.

Oh, yeah, this shit.

“Sam, listen man, you gotta--”

“I know, Dean, but it’s hard. You don’t get it.”

Dean doesn’t know what to do. He _doesn’t_ get it. “Then, show me.”

What?

“What?” Sam echoes his inner confusion. But Dean marches through.

“Show me how to get it. Help me understand. I don’t understand any of this, I know it’s not, like, a choice, but it seems like you’re doing it on purpose. And I know you’re not, but it’s hard to help someone that doesn’t seem to listen.” Dean sighs. “I just, I want to make you better, Sammy,” he finishes lamely.

“Dean, you have to realise, I might not get better. I’ll try, for you, but, I can’t, I can’t do it on my own. I can’t... Just, I can’t make myself do it.”

“What, you want me to farce-feed you?” Dean joked.

“I’d do whatever it take to get better for you,” Sam admits quietly.

Dean’s face softens. He glances at the cup. Sighs.

Picking up the noodles and fork, he makes a show of scooping up some ramen and twirling it around until a few clung around the fork. He held it out to Sam.

“Close your eyes, Sam,” he requests.

Sam breathes shakily, shutting his lids slowly and opening his mouth a little. 

 

**

 

Sam does everything in his limited power to keep his mouth open as the warm, slimy, wet--

“No,” Sam gasps. “I can’t.”

_You can’t do anything._

His eyes are still closed but he can hear Dean’s frustrated sigh.

“I’m sorry, I can’t.”

Dean sighs again and lays a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Sammy.”

He sounds so disappointed and Sam doesn’t want to let Dean down _again_.

_Like you always do._

“Can... Could I have something else? Like, I dunno, a salad. But no dressing, or croutons, or... maybe just lettuce?” He sounds so pathetic.

_And needy._

He opens his eyes, though, and sees Dean smiling at him.

“‘Course, Sammy.”

Sam can’t help but smile back. “Thanks,” he says quietly.

“No problem.” He stands up, heading toward the door. “You need anything else while I’m out?”

Sam thinks. “No, that’s it,” he confirms.

_You burden him enough as it is._

Dean nods. “‘Kay.”

More sounds as he grabs his jacket, keys, and shoes. After a moment, Sam can hear the Impala pull out and away. Dean’s a great brother. Sam sinks into the bed as he wallows in how awful a brother he is making Dean go out when he’s probably tired.

He wants to get better for Dean, he does, but it’s so _hard_ to not listen to the voices. Jess is back full force, commenting on everything and making Sam feel like an awful human being.

He tries to block her out, her voice that isn’t the woman she really was. The Jess in college was nice, sweet. Sam can admit now that she might have been a tiny bit manipulative, but never outright mean like her voice is.

He tunes her out as much as he can. His eyes shut and he lets his body sink into the bed. He’s so tired, so emotionally exhausted. He just lets go, lets everything loose, lets it all, just... go.

“Sam, I’m back!”

Sam’s eyes snap open. Dean had only been out for no more than two minutes. Right? Sam glanced at the clock. Shit, he’d been out for an hour!

“Hey sleepyhead,” Dean calls out cheerfully. Sam sits up and throws his legs over the side.

“In here.”

Dean pops into the room. “Still? Thought you’d be reading or something by now.” Dean’s brows scrunch, but then smooth out as he dismisses the conversation. “Anyway, I brought you your rabbit food.” He presents a head of lettuce wrapped in plastic.

Sam can’t help the quirk of his mouth, amused as always by Dean’s analogies. He holds out a hand to receive the lettuce. It drops with a wet sound onto his palm.

Sam takes a deep breath. It’s mostly water. Mostly water. Minimal calories, easily burned off. He can do this.

He can do this.

His fingers are shaky as he struggles with the wrapping, but eventually he gets it off, water droplets falling on the sheets. He tears off an outer leaf, and takes a bite.

It doesn’t taste like anything, not really. Mostly water indeed.

He is able to get himself to eat two more leaves before he hears her.

_That's enough, I can practically see you getting fat._

“No,” he whispers and shoves another bite in. He eats angrily for a while until Dean puts a hand on his wrist, stopping him.

“Sam, you don’t have to keep going.” Dean’s voice and eyes are soft.

Sam looks at the head of lettuce, only just noticing the significant dent he’d made. He nods silently, allowing Dean to take the green leaves from his shaking hands.

Sam lays down again, legs still hanging over the side. Dean comes back into the room. He is standing in front of Sam, their knees touching. Sam pulls himself up as Dean lowers. They just stare for a moment before Dean brings a hand up to the back of Sam’s neck. Sam feels his head being tilted and then they’re kissing.

It’s not about lust, it’s love, Sam can feel it. He relaxes into Dean’s warmth, letting his legs part to allow one of Dean’s legs to kneel on the bed. They fall backwards, still kissing. Dean pulls back for breath, and Sam didn’t realise he wasn’t breathing.

Dean stares into his eyes. “I’m so proud of you.” he whispers, and Sam feels like he could fly. They readjust and end up laying side by side, cuddled close and keeping warm.

They fall asleep in each other’s embrace. 

 

 

 

 

 

**End of Chapter 10**

 


	11. Those Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long, RL is a bitch. So this chapter talks about the night where John took advantage of Sam. It isn't too detailed or explicit, but if you're sensitive, be careful. 
> 
> Song for this chapter: Thx 4 th mmrs by Fall Out Boy
> 
> ^^

 

_ Previously:  _

_ His fingers are shaky as he struggles with the wrapping, but eventually he gets it off, water droplets falling on the sheets. He tears off an outer leaf, and takes a bite.  _

_ It doesn’t taste like anything, not really. Mostly water indeed.  _

_ He is able to get himself to eat two more leaves before he hears her. _

That's enough, I can practically see you getting fat. 

_ “No,” he whispers and shoves another bite in. He eats angrily for a while until Dean puts a hand on his wrist, stopping him. _

_ “Sam, you don’t have to keep going.” Dean’s voice and eyes are soft. _

_ Sam looks at the head of lettuce, only just noticing the significant dent he’d made. He nods silently, allowing Dean to take the green leaves from his shaking hands. _

_ Sam lays down again, legs still hanging over the side. Dean comes back into the room. He is standing in front of Sam, their knees touching. Sam pulls himself up as Dean lowers. They just stare for a moment before Dean brings a hand up to the back of Sam’s neck. Sam feels his head being tilted and then they’re kissing.  _

_ It’s not about lust, it’s love, Sam can feel it. He relaxes into Dean’s warmth, letting his legs part to allow one of Dean’s legs to kneel on the bed. They fall backwards, still kissing. Dean pulls back for breath, and Sam didn’t realise he wasn’t breathing. _

_ Dean stares into his eyes. “I’m so proud of you.” he whispers, and Sam feels like he could fly. They readjust and end up laying side by side, cuddled close and keeping warm. _

_ They fall asleep in each other’s embrace.  _

 

**

 

It’s early morning when Dean wakes up, and still pretty dark outside. Sam is snuggled into his side and warm. Breathing softly, he looks peaceful for the first time in several days. Dean stays still and breathes normally, but inside he’s twisting and turning, trying to find answers to questions that have been rattling in his head. 

Who was that? 

_ What _ was that? 

Why did it choose Sam? 

How did it gets those memories? 

God, those memories. 

Sam was so small then, so innocent looking, not yet scarred by their father’s wrath and scornful words. Before Dean failed and wasn’t able to take all of the damage that night and John hit Sam for the first time and hurt him with words Sam still hasn’t forgotten. 

Dean hadn’t made that mistake again, careful to bear the brunt of the blows and harsh words so Sam wouldn’t get hurt again. 

Turns out he failed at that, too. 

Dean lets out a sigh and Sam stirs. His beautiful eyes look up at Dean through his floppy bangs, making Dean fall in love with him again. “Dean? What time is it?” Sam mumbles. 

“Hey you. It’s about five or so in the morning.” 

Sam wriggles around and twists until he is sitting up facing Dean with his legs criss-crossed. He stares at Dean and there is no trace of sadness or pain in them. Dean, for a moment, thinks he’s dreaming. But then Sam kisses him, but misses because he closed his eyes and that’s just so  _ Sam _ .  

Sam pulls back, embarrassed, but Dean leans up on his elbow, the other hand hooking under Sam’s chin and bringing him into a kiss that connects this time. Sam sighs happily. 

“I love you, De.” 

Dean’s heart clenches. Sam hasn’t called him De since they were really little, maybe five and nine. He moves his hand to the back of Sam’s head, stroking the soft strands that curl around his fingers. 

“I love you too, Sammy,” Dean says, even though it goes against his strict no-chick-flick-moments rule. 

Sam’s smile is worth it, though. “Did you know it’s been almost ten years since you told me that?” Sam asks with true curiosity, not anger. 

Dean eyebrows twitch up. “No, I didn’t. Sorry.” 

Sam shakes his head. “No, it’s more special now.” 

Dean smiles at that. He’s glad Sam isn’t upset with him. 

“Still,” he says, letting it stand. 

“Yeah,” Sam agrees quietly, then there’s an awkward silence. It makes Dean mad; there is never awkward moments like this between them until recently. Dean walked in on Sam jerking off once, but it wasn’t awkward after Dean started giving him shit for it. 

He wants that easy comfortableness back. Well, it’s awkward anyway, and Dean needs to ask Sam. 

“Hey. Um, will you. Tell me what happened? With dad?” Dean gets it out, so afraid to fuck this up. 

Sam sighs tiredly, like he’s been expecting this question. 

“Look. I will tell you, if you really want to know. But Dean, the man in this story is not the man you know as your dad. This man is drunk and stupid, distressed and weighed down by grief. When I tell you, I won’t stop until the end, so no questions.” He takes a breath. “Okay?” 

“Okay,” Dean agrees. 

 

**

 

Sam mentally prepares himself to recount the story. 

“Okay,” Sam repeats, mostly to himself. “Okay.” 

Not looking at anything, he starts: “So, I was, like, thirteen, and you were out somewhere, probably hustling pool or something. I was at the motel alone, ‘cause it was summer and we didn’t have school. So I was sitting on the couch, watching TV, and then dad came in, stumbling like usual. I basically ignored him because I wasn’t surprised. 

“But then he, like, was staring at me really weird and just, I dunno, looking at me. I snapped at him like I always did. Then he just, kind of rushed forward, really fast, and I didn’t see it until he was looming over me. 

“He looked so disappointed, not like that was new, but he was also kinda, like, I can’t describe it. Lonely, I guess. He stared at me for a long while before he said, ‘how are you so beautiful, when you speak so ugly?’ He said I looked just like mom. He said... that he missed her body, her mouth. 

“I told him to shut up because I didn’t want to know what dad thought of my mom’s mouth, but he kept staring at me. He sorta fell to his knees, running a, a hand up my leg. He reached up to touch my face, saying things like: ‘you have her mouth, you have her beauty, her innocence.’ Just all kinds of shit like that. I was so confused that I just froze when he tugged my hair and kissed me. Kind of kissed me. It was more of a bruising force on my face, his beard scratching me. 

“He took me and held me by my hair and it happened so fast because then suddenly I was sucking him, and it hurt, but I knew what to do to get it over with quickly and I did it, I purposefully gave him a blowjob. He let go of my hair and sort of fell backwards until he sat on the couch and pulled me in his lap. 

“I didn’t think, I just did it, just moved around on him and he held my hips so tight. So tight and it felt so good, I. I liked it.” Sam’s voice broke. “I loved the bruises it left, I held them when I jerked off. I wanted to get off on him, on my freaking dad, I’m so messed up. He was so nice and sweet, calling me beautiful and Mary, but I didn’t care. 

“...I’m sorry. Dean, I’m so sor--” 

“Don’t, Sam. Don’t be sorry. I’m not mad at you, it wasn’t your fault.” 

“Dean, it wasn’t rape, there was no fault. I did it because I wanted it, because I’m fucked up.” 

Sam falters, surprised at his language. He usually cusses all the time, but ‘fuck’ was saved for special occasions. He doesn’t even care anymore. Dean probably hates him now. 

“Sam, it wasn’t consensual, that makes it rape,” Dean tried to reason. 

“I didn’t tell you everything we said. I said yes, I said I wanted it, I  _ begged _ for it, Dean, I begged and it was the hottest moment of my life.” Sam feels like he’s going to explode, because Dean just isn’t getting it. 

“Dean, that memory you were shown, that? That was mostly rape. I didn’t say yes, and I didn’t want it the whole time. But with dad, I’m so disgusting because I wanted it again, I asked for it again, because he was so nice to me for once. He shoved down my throat and  _ I _ held myself there. Hell, I wished he was rougher, I wanted it hard but he made it soft and sweet, so let me tell you it is no one’s fault other than my screwed up brain and body.” 

Sam is breathing heavily. Dean is staring at him. 

Silence rings heavy in the stale air. 

Dean stands up, wiping his hands on his thighs. His mouth is a tight line, shoulders taut. 

He grabs clothing items and heads to the bathroom, shutting and locking the door gently behind him. 

Sam doesn’t feel the tears on his face as he stares at the door. 

Dean hates him now. 

  
  
  
  
  


**End of Chapter 11**

 


	12. Thank You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over 5,000 views, yayyy! (Don't you guys have anything better to do?)  
> Anyway, we're nearing the end here. I'm not going to go through the entire recovery process, because lemme tell you, shit takes forever, honestly. I do have another chapter in mind, though, so stay tuned ;)
> 
> ^^

 

_ Previously:  _

_ “...I’m sorry. Dean, I’m so sor--”  _

_ “Don’t, Sam. Don’t be sorry. I’m not mad at you, it wasn’t your fault.”  _

_ “Dean, it wasn’t rape, there was no fault. I did it because I wanted it, because I’m fucked up.”  _

_ Sam falters, surprised at his language. He usually cusses all the time, but ‘fuck’ was saved for special occasions. He doesn’t even care anymore. Dean probably hates him now.  _

_ “Sam, it wasn’t consensual, that makes it rape,” Dean tried to reason.  _

_ “I didn’t tell you everything we said. I said yes, I said I wanted it, I  _ begged  _ for it, Dean, I begged and it was the hottest moment of my life.” Sam feels like he’s going to explode, because Dean just isn’t getting it.  _

_ “Dean, that memory you were shown, that? That was mostly rape. I didn’t say yes, and I didn’t want it the whole time. But with dad, I’m so disgusting because I wanted it again, I asked for it again, because he was so nice to me for once. He shoved down my throat and  _ I  _ held myself there. Hell, I wished he was rougher, I wanted it hard but he made it soft and sweet, so let me tell you it is no one’s fault other than my screwed up brain and body.”  _

_ Sam is breathing heavily. Dean is staring at him.  _

_ Silence rings heavy in the stale air.  _

_ Dean stands up, wiping his hands on his thighs. His mouth is a tight line, shoulders taut.  _

_ He grabs clothing items and heads to the bathroom, shutting and locking the door gently behind him.  _

_ Sam doesn’t feel the tears on his face as he stares at the door.  _

_ Dean hates him now.  _

 

**

 

Dean can’t think. Sam liked it. Sam  _ liked _ it? But, it was, it was  _ rape _ , right? Sam was underage, he didn’t know what he was doing.

Dean closes his eyes, trying to focus his thoughts. He’s sitting on the front porch area of the motel. It’s horribly quiet in the room. Sam is going to do something stupid, Dean can feel it.

He stands with a heavy sigh, as his hand touches the doorknob, he hears something. Leaning his ear closer, he can almost make out, what, crying? Screaming? Dean shakes his head and opens the door. He’s half expecting Sam to be gone or passed out, but he’s just sitting there, silent tears running down his face.

So Dean didn’t hear anything, but that doesn’t mean nothing is going on.

“Sam?” Dean tries carefully.

Sam looks up at him-- no,  _ through _ him. Sam’s eyes aren’t seeing anything, just blankly facing Dean’s direction. Sam clearly cannot see Dean, has no idea he’s even standing in the same room.

Sam’s long fingers start scratching at his arms, slowly at first. Dean takes a step forward. “Sammy?”

Sam’s started clawing his arms now, red furrows and peeling skin in the wake of his harsh nails. He starts panting, more violently tearing at himself. All over, not just his arms, he is dragging his sharp fingernails over everything over and over and over again.

“Sam, stop!” Dean yells, afraid to touch Sam in case he scares him. Those pale hands go to the barely there stomach and begin trying to gouge out whatever fat Sam thinks is there.

Tears spring to Dean’s eyes; he hates seeing his baby brother in so much mental pain that he has to distract himself by making his body bleed.

“SAM!” he shouts desperately. Sam stops, not moving, not looking up, fingers still firmly in his skin. “Stop hurting yourself, Sam, please.”

“Sam just shakes his head slightly. “No, no. You already hate me, and-and now I’m so disgusting, I am so awful I’m sorry, Dean. I love you and I know you hate me now, but please,  _ please _ , don’t leave me.” Sam is rocking by now, little movements that shake him even more than he already is.

“Sam, you know I’d never leave you. Never.” Dean says with conviction. “They is not one single thing that I would ever put in front of you. You hear me? Nothing.”

Sam looks at him now with big teary eyes and a pout. “But, I... I’m so--”

“Nope, I’m not gonna hear it. You are my baby brother and anyone who badmouths him gets a piece of my mind. That includes you.” He pets his hair, sitting down next to him. Sam leans into the touch.

“I can’t be what you want Dean. I’m not a woman, I’m ugly, I’m broken... You say you love me, but I just don’t know why. Or how. How could you love me?” he asks with genuine confusion.

“I’ll always love you, Sammy. You’re my pain in the ass little brother,” he smirks.

Sam’s lips twitch up a small bit.

“Besides, I don’t need a woman when I’ve got you.”

Dean leans down and wraps himself around Sam. “I won’t ever leave you, I swear.”

_ I love you _ .

He thinks the thought out loud on accident.

Sam snuggles closer. “Thank you Dean.”

Silent tears slide down both of their faces.

  
  


Manly tears, mind.

  
  
  
  
  


**End of Chapter 12**

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of this particular story, but I have more for this verse in mind, including the creepy monster guy, as well as Sam's recovery. Thanks to everyone who stayed with this. 
> 
> ^^


End file.
